


Within The Red Circle

by Jepshe



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Past Drug Addiction, Reunions, Smut, ex-lovers to friends to lovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-08
Updated: 2020-07-06
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:42:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 56,893
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23542558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jepshe/pseuds/Jepshe
Summary: They are bound to meet each other sooner or later, and sooner is more likely. She'll be at the gym training with Jon, she'll come to bar nights, she'll probably even be there playing football in the park on sundays.Just like she always did, he thinks.Until she didn't, is the thought that immediately follows, like it always does when any memory of Arya passes Gendry's mind.-Arya is back home. It's been a long time.
Relationships: Arya Stark & Sansa Stark, Arya Stark/Gendry Waters, Jon Snow & Arya Stark, Jon Snow & Gendry Waters
Comments: 334
Kudos: 314





	1. Prologue: pub night

**Author's Note:**

> This is a story I've been writing for a while now because the idea of this would not leave me alone.
> 
> This is going to be pretty angsty and maybe a bit dark too, so if that's not your thing, please don't read. Also, there's going to be some drug use (happening in the past, but it is there) and talk of it, and it will be done by some of the main characters, so... Just a warning.

This is what seeing a ghost is like, Gendry thinks as he watches the door to the pub opening and the girl he once loved walking in.

Arya Stark walks over to the group of people gathered around a tall table in the back of the pub and gets greeted with warm hugs by several of their mutual friends. 

Gendry watches from his place near the bar as Jon keeps his hand wrapped around Arya’s shoulder, holding her close to him protectively, looking at the tiny woman with the same smile of pure adoration he always has. Like they are still just teenagers, like the years haven’t passed, like she hasn’t been away for so long that everybody has gone on living with the assumption that she’s probably never going to be a part of their daily lives again.

Gendry looks at his phone to avoid looking at the scene by the table. Because he doesn’t want to see that, doesn’t want to see her there like it’s totally normal for her to be in this pub with all of them.

“A stout, please,” he asks the bartender and sits down on one of the stools by the bar.

  
  
  
  
  


“Haven’t seen you with a beer for a while,” Jon notes as he walks up to Gendry.

“Yeah, well,” is all Gendry says. 

Because what can he say? That the arrival of Jon’s favorite person in the whole world has made him more anxious than anything in a long time? That the woman who is barely five feet tall is making him uncomfortable just by existing in the other side of a crowded pub and he is in need of liquid encouragement as he ponders whether he should just slip out of the place as quietly as possible? That the appearance of his former girlfriend has him resorting to drinking when he and Jon both know how badly that has served him in the past?

“You should come and say hi,” Jon suggests deciding not to comment more on the drinking. Gendry can have a couple of beers, they both know that. He just normally decides not to. 

Gendry glances at the tall table and the back of a brown haired head he can see there. The hair was shorter last time, he thinks. 

"I think she would like to see you," Jon says softly, "Besides, you can't avoid each other forever now that she's back." 

Jon is right, of course. They are bound to meet each other sooner or later, and sooner is more likely. Gendry is pretty sure Jon will be dragging Arya with him everywhere he goes. She'll be at the gym training with Jon, she'll come to bar nights – especially these ones happening once in every two weeks they’ve all agreed to stick to so the whole group gets together at least twice a month – she’ll probably even be there playing football in the park on sundays. 

Just like she always did, he thinks. 

Until she didn't, is the thought that immediately follows, like it always does when any memory of Arya passes Gendry's mind. 

He knew Arya was coming back, Jon had told him all about it a month ago when it was confirmed. So this, Arya being here, it is not a total surprise. He knew it would happen and he had tried to get used to the idea. Maybe he had hoped it would have only been from afar at first or that it might have taken a bit more time for them to actually cross paths, but however he imagined or hoped it would happen, he was always sure it would be some kind of a shock. Seeing her here tonight proves that he had been right thinking there was nothing he could have done to prepare himself for this.

By the look in Jon’s eyes Gendry knows his friend has a fair idea of the feelings currently going through his head and for that Gendry is infinitely grateful. Jon had been dealing with his own messes when Arya left, but he had been the one to see Arya at her worst and he did know what is was to lose a person you love.

Jon knows this isn’t easy and he won’t force Gendry to meet Arya tonight, that he knows. But like Jon said, there’s no avoiding it forever and Gendry doesn’t want to just slip away from the pub without saying anything to his friends. They have, after all, been there all these years, even when he certainly wasn’t the best company for any of them. So he gets up from his stool and follows Jon back to their table.

  
  
  
  


Tormund is telling some absurd story of his, like he always is, and when they are a few steps away from the table he can hear Arya laughing.

She laughs the same way she always did, he notices. It feels weird to hear her laugh like that now since she wasn’t really laughing all that much before she left. There didn’t seem to be anything to laugh about amidst all the mess. In fact, he vividly remembers thinking Arya looked like she would never laugh like that again and that he’d never see her wiping tears of laughter from her eyes. But there it is now, that full belly laugh making her take a hold on Sam’s shoulder for support and wipe the corner of her eye with her index finger. 

He notices Sam glancing down at her with affection, the the same one all of Jon’s best friends always seemed to have for his beloved little sister. Yes, Arya always was everyone’s favorite, no matter how annoying she was as the kid following them around or the one needing to be sneaked into bars. So it really is no surprise they are all ecstatic to see her and see how good she appears to be doing.

When the others have calmed down Jon touches Arya’s arm to let her know he is back and to make room for them around the table. Gendry can see Jon saying something in her ear in a low voice and then she turns her head to see him.

There’s a cautious smile on her lips at first, her eyes searching his. And then he sees the expression he had forgotten but now feels so familiar for he has seen it hundreds of times. Arya Stark pulls on her face of confidence, flashes a big smile and raises her glass in a greeting.

“They told me you were here somewhere,” she says before taking a sip.

Gendry nods, hoping that the smile he forces on his own face isn’t too much like a grimace.

“Just got myself a beer,” he says, as casual as he can and focuses on the next weird story Tormund has already started telling.

When Gendry steps out of the pub half an hour later his head is spinning even though he only drank that one beer. There’s a song playing in his head that he hasn’t listened to in years.

* * *

  
  
  


When Arya left he stopped doing many things. He stopped watching their favorite show and he stopped eating her favorite candy, too.

He stopped listening to a lot of songs. For they all belonged to her, they were all  _ their _ songs and he didn’t feel he could enjoy them without her. Were those artists ever his favorites or did he just listen to them because of her? Did he just get into everything she liked because he was so into her? 

When someone had asked him what kind of music he liked, he hadn’t known what to answer. If he named one of the bands whose music she introduced him to he had felt like a liar. Because he didn’t even listen to those bands anymore, even if he could name all the songs from just hearing a couple of seconds of an intro, could tell you how they sounded when she stood in front of him in the middle of hundreds of people watching the band perform or how she had lifted her bare toes to rest against the glove department of his car as they were driving and the song was playing.

But she was gone and he knew he had to make a new life for himself. 

After a couple of years he noticed he could listen to some of the songs without the feeling of drowning. He started eating the candy if someone offered it to him. He even watched an episode of that show but it wasn’t as funny anymore. He told himself it wasn’t because he was missing her comments but just that he had grown out of it.

It took him a long time, but no matter how hard it might seem, people do get over their loved ones leaving and he did, too.

He had a new job and he worked hard. After a few months of drinking too much he stopped that, too, and started going to the gym with Jon again once he came back to town from his time spent in the North. He bought his own apartment. He went out with his friends and he dated.

He had a nice life, and he was doing fine. The thought of Arya didn’t linger on his mind and when he heard one of the songs they used to listen to together it rarely made him emotional anymore.

But that night, after seeing Arya for the first time in years, he lies awake in his bedroom. He listens to the music they once shared and the lump in his throat is so big he can hardly breath.


	2. Spring Light

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They have been here before, and if he just closes his eyes, tastes the coffee and feels the sun on his skin as he listens to Arya and Jon discuss their plans for the rest of the day, he can almost feel like things are still the same. But the wind is still chilly when it picks up and when he opens his eyes he sees Arya straining her neck to catch the sun on her skin and is reminded that she has spent so long in places where the sun is different than it is here, that she is probably used to a different sort of warmth now.

Gendry knew it would not take long for him and Arya to run into each other, and he definitely did not expect that night at the pub to be the only occasion, but it still catches him off guard that the second time happens less than 48 hours after the first. However when he walks into the gym on Sunday morning she’s already there, laying down on the bench to lift up weights with Jon standing close by to help her. 

For a second he thinks about turning back and just going back home, but then he decides he really can’t do that. He gave up on too many things in his life because of Arya before and he can’t - he won’t - change his routines now. If she starts being at the gym regularly then so be it. He’s sure they can find a way to co-exist without even talking to each other too much. It’s not like he talks to anyone there a lot - a few words with Jon if they help each other with the weights and if they happen to be in the locker room at the same time - and at least Arya won’t be there. That thought in mind he makes his way to the locker room and swiftly changes his clothes. 

Jon and Arya are still at the bench when he emerges from the locker room and he knows he can’t get away without saying at least a quick hello to them. As he approaches the bench he takes notice of the plates currently on the bar, and how they seem to be entirely too much for a person build like Arya to lift. But her movements look steady and calm as she pushes the bar up one more time and lets Jon help her get it to the rack safely. 

As she sits up she notices Gendry and her lips turn into a spontaneous smile. She pushes loose strands of hair out of her face and takes a sip from her water bottle.

“Now don’t you start showing off after me,” she says to him, getting up from the bench. “It’s really not a fair comparison.”

The way she speaks, teasing him right away as she sees him, before he has a chance to even comment on her weights, is so familiar. It’s one more thing that doesn’t seem to have changed during the years and the challenging look she casts his way completes it to a perfection. 

She’s older - and stronger, it appears - and there’s some new quality to her he can’t really describe just yet, but in that moment she’s so much like her old self, too. She’s not the Arya she was when she left, but she is the Arya he remembers from earlier years, and he can’t help but to take on the same tone.

“Don’t worry, I know you’re still a lightweight, Stark,” he tells her.

Arya takes her bottle and heads to the other side of the gym but Jon stays by the bench with Gendry.

“We were thinking about having lunch after this. You’re welcome to join us.”

Gendry rubs his neck, not sure what to say.

“I’m sure Arya wouldn’t mind,” Jon says as if to assure him. Gendry runs the thought through his mind, trying to decide if he likes the idea or not.

“She said it was good to see you on Friday,” Jon adds.

Gendry glances at the woman in question, running a fast pace on the treadmill.

“Fine,” he says. “If I’m ready by the time you are leaving, I’ll come with you.”

Jon leaves him be, moving on to some other machine, and Gendry tries his best to get through his normal exercise routine. Every once in a while he finds his eyes searching for that familiar head of brown hair.

Arya certainly looks like she knows what she’s doing as she does her thing on the various parts of the gym, running, stretching, hanging and lifting, everything with equal grace. She even does some seriously impressing yoga poses and at one point he notices she is lifting herself up on her hands and walking across the matress - showing off to Jon she can do it, from the looks of it. And Jon is grinning, that fond smile on his face and it’s clear that he at least has no problems whatsoever sorting out his feelings about Arya being back because it appears to be pure, radiant happiness.

She’s wearing a large, loose t-shirt with a black sports bra under it and tiny shorts, and underneath them Gendry can see she has got a lot more muscle than she used to have. She was always slender, he recalls, but now her figure is more athletic. Gone is the almost skeletal appearance he remembers from the last months before she left and in its place signs that hours spent at a gym have definitely been a part of her life while she’s been away.

He can also spot a lot more ink on her skin than there used to be, although he can’t see from across the gym what any of the pictures actually depict. Her hair is pulled into a loose bun on top of her head, like she just pulled it up there without looking into a mirror, like she isn’t the least bit concerned about how she looks.

All of it gives out an air of self-confidence, but there’s also some kind of warmth that is evident. Maybe it’s Jon’s doing, Gendry thinks, maybe she’s just mirroring all that love that’s so clearly pouring from Jon. Maybe it’s just the two siblings having a good time after being separated for so long what makes her look like that. Or maybe that’s what she is like nowadays, he thinks. He certainly doesn’t know her anymore, does he?

  
  


* * *

  
  
  


“Jon tells me you work in some tech firm?” Arya says conversationally as they sit down at their table in the coffee shop. Gendry glances quickly at Jon, wondering what else he has told her and how much they have talked about him. He himself has been reluctant to discuss anything concerning Arya - a conscious decision he made years ago, and decided to stuck onto even when Jon mentioned it a couple of months ago that Arya had been more responsive to his repetitive pleas for her to return home.

“Engineering,” he confirms, “Been there for a couple of years now.”

“And you like it?” she continues to ask, appearing insistent to keep the conversation going and to get some information about him. So he indulges her and tells her about his job, how it is a pretty good fit for him and how he has some nice co-workers there which also helps.

Their food arrives as he speaks and Arya listens to him, nodding every once in a while, asking more questions about his work place, wanting to know what it is exactly that he does. She’s insistent but polite, listening carefully to his every word, asking for clarification on some details, almost like interviewing him.

That thought makes him look up from his plate as he realises that is probably exactly what she is doing - that is kind of _her_ profession, isn’t it?

"You're working at the museum, right?" he asks her in turn, mostly out of politeness but also because now that he is actually talking with her he can't fight the urge to know a little bit more about her. 

Arya nods, eagerly. 

"I'm starting tomorrow so I don't actually know that much about it but yes, I'll be doing the communications and some marketing, too. I'll have to see how it all shapes out but it sounds good," she explains, clearly excited. 

"I will probably be tired as hell for a couple of weeks but that's what you get with a new job," she continues but doesn't sound nervous or worried at all. Quite the opposite, she seems very relaxed about it all and Gendry wonders whether it is a front she's putting up or if she really is this confident, this comfortable in her own skin.   
  


Arya has lifted her elbows on the the edges of the table and is holding glass with both hands, fingers playing on the sides of it. Gendry can't stop himself from looking at her arms, on display in the t-shirt she's wearing - a different, more fitted one than the one she had on at the gym. And he can’t help himself from comparing those arms with the memory of the bony, skinny arms they once were.

There’s a large tattoo of a flower or a plant of some sort in the left one, covering most of her bicep and upper arm and a smaller one of a sword on her right forearm, just above her wrist. There are a lot more muscles, too, and her bones no longer stick out. And what he notices most is the thing that’s lacking, the bruises and the needle tracks. There are none of those, the skin is all clear, smooth and spotless.

She looks healthy, Gendry thinks, and he is happy for that, no matter how many difficult thoughts being around her may bring out in him, of that he is happy.

He might add that she looks good, beautiful in fact. But that thought is a much more complex one so he tries not to dwell on it. Yes, Arya Stark is a beautiful woman, that is just a fact anyone can see, but it doesn’t need to mean anything more to him personally.

So he listens as she tells a little bit more about her job and the flat she has already found, or rather, Sansa found for her through her vast networks, even before Arya arrived in Winterfell. All there was for Arya to do was to go see the place in person and agree on it, which truthfully was not much of an question of if, because Sansa, as everyone around that table knows, has a hack for these things and she had of course taken everything one could think of into consideration. It really was no surprise the place seemed to be everything Arya could ask for.

"Just remember to ask help with anything you need," Jon tells her, always the caring older brother. Arya smiles at him. 

"I can handle it Jon, you can relax." 

"I know you can handle it,” Jon reassures her, “But you've got a lot to do with the flat, too, so just tell me if you need a drive to pick up more stuff or some help putting all the furniture together once it arrives." 

"Don't worry, you'll get to drive me around enough," she promises and ruffles Jon's hair affectionately. 

"But don't think I'll be asking you with the furniture anymore," she adds and turns towards Gendry. 

"You should have seen his temper tantrums yesterday when we tried putting together an old side table Sansa had in the attic."

"Oh come on!" Jon protests, looking at Gendry for support but he has to raise his hands up. 

"No Jon, I'm sorry but you're really not the one I’d ask to read Ikea instructions." 

He meets Arya’s eyes across the table, and they are full of mirth as she pats Jon’s arms and coos to him, laughing at Jon’s attempt at pouting that even he can’t keep up at that moment because he is just so utterly and completely happy it’s his little sister who's there to tease him. 

And Gendry must admit, there really is no one who can get away with that much teasing with Jon or any one who can do it better. And he must also admit that he has missed this, missed seeing Arya and Jon together, missed all three of them together. It’s been so long he had forgotten about this but now that he is sitting with Jon and Arya it’s so very clear what a huge part of his life this friendship once was.

* * *

  
  
  


They take a stroll around the park near the coffee shop, deciding to take their coffees outside and drink them while enjoying the sunshine and the fact that the snow has cleared off and the pavements are free of slush. The wind twirls a few dry leaves around their feet, remnants of last summer, still making the scenery more grayish than green even as the first flowers of the year are starting to find their way through the soil.

It’s that time of the year, that specific moment when you can actually feel the spring in the air, feel that the winter has really given up and start believing there will be a summer again. The moment that makes you sigh as you remember what warmth felt like, the sun warming your skin.

That sensation combined with the strange feeling of being there with Arya - or Arya and Jon to be more precise - a combination that was once so common, is bringing forth a deja vu almost too overwhelming to deal with. Especially when he knows it’s not really a deja vu but more like reliving a memory since he knows they have really walked these paths together more times than he can count.

They have been here before, and if he just closes his eyes, tastes the coffee and feels the sun on his skin as he listens to Arya and Jon discuss their plans for the rest of the day, he can almost feel like things are still the same. But the wind is still chilly when it picks up and when he opens his eyes he sees Arya straining her neck to catch the sun on her skin and is reminded that she has spent so long in places where the sun is different than it is here, that she is probably used to a different sort of warmth now. 

This place must feel very cold to Arya.

And with that thought it feels like the sun isn't shining quite as brightly as it was just a moment ago because when he looks at her again he can see that despite her face being raised upwards to catch some of the beams of light, it’s not the face of the carefree girl but the face of a woman and there are lines of worry in her face. There is a quietness that didn’t use to be there.

There was a time - it seems hard to believe it was actually like that once, but it was, he knows it. There was a time when it was all easy and fun and light. A point in their lives, when they were all just kids worrying about the stuff that normal kids do: school and parents making up rules and how they could snuggle a couple of bottles to a party or sneak back in without getting caught. Him and Jon - and Arya, somehow always finding her way to join them even though she was younger - and sometimes Robb and Theon and even Sansa.

But then, in a rapid succession, one disaster after another followed and made sure they would never again be those kids. After that, getting caught by parents was the least of their worries. It was more about hoping they still had those parents or the home to sneak into.

It had started with Gendry’s father dying, which, truth be said, would not have been the end of the world on it’s own for the man never did him much good. It did however make him an orphan as his mother had died years earlier and with that came some responsibilities and, among other things, the need to handle his money and every other thing on his ow. 

After that it had been Arya’s dad - which Gendry doesn’t think she ever really recovered from and how could she have. A teenager isn’t supposed to see their father dying. And then, two years later, it was her mother and oldest brother. 

All of that might have still been tolerable - Arya would have gotten past it in some way. And she did to some extent. In fact, some of the most amazing times they had together happened after that. 

But the last straw, the thing that was just too much, had been her youngest brother and that horrendously stupid biking accident, the cruelest of all the cruel jokes thrown on their way. 

It had arguably been Arya who had been struck the worst by that. Rickon had been her partner in crime, the baby brother who idolized her whatever she did, the one who looked up to her and wanted to get into every trouble Arya could ever come up with. They had the same relentless energy, wildly pumping through their veins. With Rickon gone the Stark household was a lot quieter - a lot harder for Arya to deal with, Gendry thought. More than once he wondered if making sure Rickon was having a reasonably normal and happy life was the thing that made Arya cling onto a sense of normalcy during all of the horrible things that happened before.

So, with Rickon gone, she had started to spend less and less time there and more time with her new friends, or whatever those people were. The habits she had already picked up during her months in Braavos were her escape - from the sorrow and also from her family. They were an escape from Gendry, too, even when she stayed physically close.

After Rickon's death she was never that carefree kid anymore nor that young woman who despite everything bad that had happened to her was determined to make something great of herself. That had all been drowned under the new version of Arya that had emerged, the new face she had put on. All of the old had been hidden beneath the constantly blown up pupils behind her sunglasses or coloured contact lenses she didn't actually need and arms covered by clothes no matter what the temperature was. And more than that, it had been lost in her evasive behavior during the nearly non-existent amount of time she seemed to have for her family and old friends.

It was only a short period - the worst of it, at least, the time when she had truly been lost to them even when she was near - but somehow it seemed to overshadow so much of everything else. Those couple of months when she really went spiralling, they still seem to haunt them - or is it just Gendry who's still being haunted? 

  
  
  
  


Gendry is pulled from his thoughts when he notices they have come around a full circle and are standing in front of the coffee shop again, next to Jon's car. 

"See you later then, right?" Jon asks him, speaking of their usual football game that's been happening 6 pm every sunday for a few years now. It's a tradition, a stable part of Gendry's week he is very fond of.

He doesn't dare asks if Arya is coming, too. It feels like seeing her twice a day might be a bit much at this moment but he remembers the promise he made to himself this morning: he's not going to change his routine. 

"Sure," he tells Jon. "See you then." 

With a wave of his hand he turns around to walk back home that is situated just around the corner, only a couple of blocks from the gym. He will keep his life as he's built it and he won't let one person from his past change everything in it. Not even if that person is Arya Stark, he decides. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, please leave a comment!
> 
> I had to change the chapter count as it seems I am unable to get this story told in less than 12 - and not promising yet that that will be the final count. But it won't be much more.


	3. Sleep the Clock Around

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It might not have seemed that way, but she had been lucky to just survive. And sheer luck was all it was, not anything she could count herself accountable of, just a twist of faith that decided she would not die that night. 
> 
> Arya knows she’s lucky now — luckier than she thinks she probably deserves to be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title of this chapter is from a song by Belle and Sebastian.

_ And the moment will come when composure returns _

_ Put a face on the world, turn your back to the wall _

_ And you walk twenty yards with your head in the air _

  
  


It had taken Arya a long time to get her act together and to start feeling better. It had taken an even longer time to get back her confidence and begin to feel like herself again.

She had travelled for months first, never stopping anywhere for long. She had mostly kept to herself. The physical addiction was already mostly gone — the worst of it at least — by the time she had been released from the hospital after the fire but of course it hadn’t been that easy to get rid of that junk — and anyone could have told her constantly moving from one place to another was probably not the easiest way to do it. She had slipped more than once and there had been more than one occasion where she wondered when her siblings would just stop answering when they got yet another call asking if they’d provide the money for one more attempt to get better that was likely to fail again.

But then there came the point when the attempt didn’t fail anymore, when she had enough strength and willpower to keep it all together. She had a purpose by then and people near her who were helping her stay focused. 

Maybe travelling around the world on her own was what calmed her mind, maybe it was Bran flying to meet her and holding her hand while telling her no matter what, she could always come back and she’d always have her pack waiting for her, no matter if they were not all in the same place anymore, no matter how much things had changed. Maybe it was Sansa sending her a text saying only “I love you” after she had once again messed up, maybe it was Jon sending a picture from behind the wall, landscape full of snow, the caption saying he wished she could be there with him.

Whatever it was, she had finally pulled herself back on her feet — for good, it seems now. She had gotten a job and gone back to school once again and actually worked for it this time (it was a different university than before, of course, but a university all the same). She had completed her studies and even built herself a career of sorts. Not that she really thought of it as some huge career, but she was working on a field she liked and going to work every day didn’t feel too bad. It gave her brain enough of a challenge not to get too bored and it was something to drown herself into when she felt like she needed a distraction.

Another distraction came in the form of gym and trying every single type of sport she could think of. Whether it was boxing or boulder climbing, yoga or running a marathon, she tried it all and found that those things, too, could be a perfect reprieve. And maybe not just that, maybe it was also about finding some part of her that had been lost for so long. That fencer girl of her youth, the one who got her kicks from the physical extortion, from being able to control her body exactly as she wanted and from focusing her mind on the movements and not from dulling that same body and mind with one substance or another.

She had pulled herself up and she had built up some of her old confidence, too. She was not the same girl she once was and she’d never be, but she was  _ Arya _ again. And so when Jon asked again, pleaded really, she decided she was finally ready to return back to Winterfell, back to her family. She was ready to come home.

  
  


* * *

  
  


With the last of her things arriving this morning from Essos she is now feeling ready for the move to her new flat. It’s not like she owns a lot of stuff, so moving her belongings from the Stark house to the one-bedroom in the downtown won’t take much time. 

Arya never felt the need to acquire many belongings while she was living in Essos and had lived in various small flats, all rented fully furnished. She didn’t really feel the need to create her own space, always wondering how long she would stay, not being able to decide which part of the town she wanted to live in. 

But Winterfell is different and she has firmly decided she won’t be moving anywhere in the near future at least. No matter if the thought of staying put feels scary as  shit . 

  
  
  
  


”Okay sister dearest, I’m ready to go furniture shopping as soon as you are,” Arya announces, walking into the kitchen and spotting her sister there by the counter, testing the temperature of a plate of spaghetti. She leans down to kiss the cheeks of the toddler sitting on the high chair at the end of the table before she sits down on one of the seats closest to the kid.

”Will you come and help aunty Arya choose good things for her flat?” she smiles to the kid.

”Maybe we can even find something for you, too, could we not?” she continues as the child smiles at her just as brightly.

”She does not need any more stuff,” Sansa mutters as she sits down and offers the plate of food to the infant.

”I’m sorry Sans but there’s no way you’re stopping me from pampering my niece a little bit now that I have the chance,” Arya tells her and reaches out to get a piece of bread for herself, too.

”Coffee?” she asks as she stands up, and when Sansa mumbles a quick  _ yes, please _ , Arya serves her sister with a full mug.

”I meant it when I said I could take on for one night while I’m still here. I’m sure you could use the sleep.”

Sansa glances at her undecidedly.

”You can’t use the argument of her not knowing me enough anymore since you know we’re best buds already,” Arya adds before Sansa has the chance to say a word, making her sister smile widely through her tiredness.

”Believe me I am very much aware of that.”

Of course she is, how could one not notice that in less than two weeks Arya has won over the little girl’s heart in a way very few people ever have — which is saying a lot because Sansa’s daughter isn’t that hard to charm in any case. But Arya already appears to hold a special place in her niece’s heart — or maybe it’s the other way around and the little girl is the one who’s got Arya all wrapped around her little finger. Most likely it’s both. But Sansa is still hesitant even if the offer is tempting.

”Just don’t know how she’d react to it being someone else in the middle of the night,” she explains.

”We’ll never know if we don’t try, will we?” Arya asks and by the look on her sister’s face she is pretty sure she has managed to convince Sansa.

  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  


Arya will never forget the feeling of waking up in a park bench, for a minute not knowing where she was or how she got there, feeling like she had been run over by a truck and soon realising she might as well have been. She felt cold and dizzy and her head hurt like hell.

She sat up, looking around, trying to figure out where she was. She could eventually recognise the little park she was in, just a little patch of grass between buildings on the edge of downtown. It was quiet and by the amount of light she could deduce it was early morning, too early for any commuters to be around just yet.

Much later she realised she was lucky it had been a relatively warm night, for otherwise she probably would have frozen on her bench. 

She had been lucky in some many ways that night, even if it might not have felt that way while she stood up from that bench, her face dirty and clothes covered with — was that ash? Was there a smell of smoke clinging to her? 

The events of the night started to get back to her, her mind flowing with the images of partying and fighting and then of smoke and fire and stuff being thrown around and maybe something crumbling down, if that could actually have happened? 

She heard her friend's words in her ears, his voice screaming at her but the words didn't make any sense to her. What had they argued about? Or was it just a conversation, gruffy like theirs usually were? She could not remember the details, just the sound of his voice, telling her to leave. 

Her eyes stung and when she wiped a hand over her face, it came back covered in grime. There was some light gray substance — what was that? — and darker stains that looked like soot. 

She tried to search her mind for memories of last night and again came up with faint recollections of smoke and people yelling and running frantically and being hit in the head and — something falling on her from the ceiling? No, that could not be right, could it? 

But yes, her head hurt like hell so the getting hit in the head was probably true at least. She put her fingers carefully to the place where it hurt the most and could feel something sticking to her fingers. Blood, mostly dried, she saw when she looked at those fingers.

The thought came to her mind that she should maybe go to the hospital, but no — no, that was not an option since surely they would ask her how she had gotten hurt. And they would take her blood and make all the tests, and know everything she had taken, and then they would ask where she got it all which of course she could not tell. 

She walked from the park and her feet seemed to carry her on an instinct to a certain direction. She could feel the smell of smoke more clearly now. As she rounded a corner she saw police line and further down a couple of fire trucks and a police car surrounding a building.

She stepped back, out of sight, scared by the officers but sure they had not noticed her yet. She leaned against the wall of the building blocking her from being seen and breathed deeply. 

In and out. In and out. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to calm her mind as flashes of memories flooded her mind.

The usual haze and blur of music and being stoned — except, now that she thought about it, she probably hadn’t even done much last night — and a party of sorts going around her, someone fighting somewhere in the building, not too far from where she was. Sandor, telling her she should stop, get out of it all, that she could still do it. Then a bang and some crashes and a little later smoke — and then, quickly, it all turning into a scene from one of those catastrophe movies as the fire spread through the building that somehow seemed to be crumbling down around them and disoriented people tried desperately to find their way out of the building. And she remembered trying to get Sandor to leave but he had just said it was too late for him, but that she needed to go. 

So she had run away — to the wrong direction first, stumbling on other people, someone bumping into her hard, knockin her down, something falling — yes, it was right, something  _ had _ really fallen from the ceiling and hit her head — and finally out of the building. She had walked further away, noticing the flashing red and blue lights so the firefighters and maybe the police, too, were obviously already there but in the middle of all that chaos someone walking on their own two feet must not have been a priority. She remembered sitting down on that park bench just to catch her breath — and then it was this morning.

Arya opened her eyes. It was still early and the streets were quiet. She needed to get away before the rush of the morning begun or before the officers noticed her. At that moment, there was only one place she could think of.

“Where have you been?” Jon asked, looking alarmed but also like he just woke up — which was probably true considering how early it was still.

“Can I come in?” was all Arya said as she pushed past him and into the flat.

“Arya!” Jon yelled after her as she walked straight to the kitchen to get a glass of water.

“What happened? Are you hurt? You look like hell.”

”There was a fire,” she said. ”I think Sandor is dead.”

She catched the look of confusion and dread on Jon’s face, but that was really the last thing she registered properly, because she felt her head start spinning again, and she needed to hold onto the counter for support — no, she needed to sit down, to the floor, and then Jon was next to her, repeating her name and his voice was panicked . 

Jon had gotten her into a hospital after all and she woke up there much later in the day. She had a severe concussion and some broken ribs and she had inhaled so much smoke that they needed to keep her on oxygen for a while. The police came later, too, but there really wasn’t that much she could tell them, and from the way they accepted her answers and didn’t come back they must have already known enough. 

She ended up spending over a week in the hospital since her body was so strained from everything that happened that the healing didn’t progress as fast as it should have. In hindsight it was good. She needed to detox, she needed to be held there by force because once the withdrawal really kicked in she needed all the help she could have. Being sedated part of the time was probably the easiest way.

It might not have seemed that way, but she had been lucky to just survive. And sheer luck was all it was, not anything she could count herself accountable of, just a twist of faith that decided she would not die that night. 

  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  


Arya knows she’s lucky now — luckier than she thinks she probably deserves to be — as she watches Sansa helping her daughter up the stairs to her new flat and lifts the enormous bags out of the back of the car and follows her sister and niece inside. When Lily laughs as she is lifted into one of those bags later on and Arya and Sansa swing the bag in the air, creating a new type of a swing for her, Arya is very aware how lucky she is indeed. 

“You could stay with us until all the furniture is delivered,” Sansa suggest.

“I  _ know _ ,” Arya tells her. They’ve been over this already, more than once.

“But I think I need my own space now that I’m working.” 

“And  _ don’t worry, _ ” she adds before Sansa can say anything, “I’ll have enough stuff here to survive a couple of weeks.”

Jon has promised to help her bring her stuff from Sansa’s house tomorrow. He’s promised to bring a truck — or more precisely he’s bringing Tormund and  _ his _ truck with him, so it’ll be easy enough to move those few pieces of furniture Sansa has gladly agreed she can take from her old home over to her new one. Arya is pretty sure it will only take one drive with both the truck and Jon’s car to get everything she has moved over, so it’s definitely not a great ordeal. But after it’s done, she’ll have a bed and a few other things, enough for her to survive until the stuff she has just bought is delivered.

“I can still come over on the weekends and stay for the night sometimes to help with Lily or watch her if you want to go out,” she assures Sansa.

“I’m not going far,” she adds and Sansa’s lips settle into a small smile. 

Her sister is just looking out for her, she knows that and it feels surprisingly good even though there really is no need to worry. It’s just Sansa being Sansa and she’s missed that. She’s missed being around people who look out for her and take care of her. 

She'll need it at some point, she's sure. With everything that’s going on she’ll need the support and she knows her sister is one of the best people for that kind of thing. But she also needs to stand on her own feet. She might stagger a bit, but she needs to be able to live like a proper adult here, in her old home town.

  
  


* * *

  
  
  
  


One ride really is everything it takes to move her things to the new flat and since Tormund is there to help — and he really is a big help with the heavy lifting — Arya doesn’t even feel tired when they are done with the job. She’ll have to assemble some of the new furniture once it gets here and she’ll need to hang up some lamps and stuff like that, but those are worries for other days.

She tells as much to Jon and Tormund, contentedly sitting on her bed.

“Maybe you should think about getting someone to live with you here,” Tormund suggest, raising his eyebrows with a smile. He’s been teasing her the entire day.

Arya shakes her head.

“If you think you can find me someone then by all means, you’re free to try, but my experiences imply it’s not a very easy task,” she tells him.

“Oh, no, please don’t let him set you up with anyone. I’ve had some very unpleasant experiences of that,” Jon sighs.

Arya turns to look at him, eyes wide with excitement. Now this she has definitely not heard of.

“What? Why have you kept this from me?”

Jon closes his eyes with an exasperated shake of his head.

“Because I have tried my best to forget it ever happened and I sincerely hope you will never have to go through anything like that so just, please, no matter what you do, do not let him set you up for a blind date.”

“Don’t try to make it my fault you’re shit at sweet talking to the ladies, Snow,” Tormund says, 

“Besides, your dates would have been fine if you weren’t just sulking all the time. At least Arya knows how to keep up a conversation.”

”I think you might be overestimating my talents, Tormund,” Arya chuckles.

”And I also think I’m alright on my own, too. Just maybe need help with hanging the lamps and such as I can’t reach the ceiling even if I use the ladder. So you just wait for the call for help since Jon is no good with that stuff either,” she teases Tormund and Jon acts appropriately offended.

“But that bastard Waters lives close by, doesn’t he?” Tormund asks. “I’m sure he’ll come around and help you with all the heavy lifting and reaching for the ceiling there is to do if you just ask him nicely. Or might be you wouldn’t even have to be that nice, mind you,” Tormund says as he piles the boxes.

He doesn’t seem to notice the awkward glance Jon throws Arya’s way or the way she pretends to focus on folding the blanket on her bed.

“Gendry lives close by?” Arya asks after a while.

“A couple of blocks from here,” Jon explains, looking a bit sheepish.

“Huh.” Arya raises her eyebrows.

“And no one thought about telling me this?”

“Guess we didn’t realise you didn’t know that.”

Arya plays with the threads of her blanket for a while.

Gendry, living so close they’ll probably run into each other every once in a while. Gendry not bothering to mention this when they discussed her new flat. She’s not sure what to make of it but she feels unsettled. She’s tried so hard to act normal around him, to be nice to him, friendly and polite and to do everything she can to make it less awkward and she’s had the feeling it has been going okay. But suddenly she’s not sure about any of it anymore.

  
  


Afterwards, Jon drives the two of them back to Sansa’s for dinner. Jon is looking at her, she knows that. He might think he’s being subtle, but he really is not the way he keeps glancing at her and opening his mouth like he’s going to say something. When they stop at a red light he finally gets something out.

“You really can ask Gendry to help you if you need something. I’m sure he would help you, you know how he is.”

The light changes and they drive in silence for a while as Arya tries to organise her thoughts to form a decent enough answer to Jon.

“I don’t think I should ask him just because he wouldn’t know how to say no.”

“Arya…” Jon starts, and his voice is so soft and there’s a hint of… what, compassion?

She knows what Jon thinks, she knows what he has been doing already. Jon wants her and Gendry to be okay again almost as much as Arya does and has not exactly been hiding it. 

Arya gazes out of the window thinking about Gendry, always acting so polite. He's trying to make it work but she's pretty sure he's not exactly happy about it. Just talking to him feels so much like slipping into a universe she thought was lost for good, but no matter the easy banter he's always cautious around her, she can see it. 

“He has every right to not want to spend time with me. He has every right to hate me for all I did. "

”Gendry doesn’t hate you,” Jon says and his voice sounds definitive even when it’s soft.

She wishes, oh, she wishes so much she could really believe Jon's words. 

"He's still not happy about me being here either." 

"He will be."   
  
  


Later that night, after they have eaten another delicious dinner that Sansa has again managed to somehow pull off while taking care of the always energetic toddler, Arya watches from her place on the couch as Jon builds a tower with the child and Sansa takes a well deserved break browsing through her social media accounts. There’s this huge sense of domesticality that Arya hasn’t felt much for years and it’s almost overwhelming.

For a long time she was in a constant flight mode, ready to run away as fast as possible if anything went wrong. Even when she started feeling better, the feeling was still there, the restlessness, the cautiousness, the inability to stay still. Funnily enough, when she finally started to feel like maybe she could let go of that feeling, she left once more. But this time it had not been to go for another unknown place. This time it had been to return. So she came back to all of this.

She is home, finally. And this, this is her family, her people. There are so many members of it who are gone, but some are still here and more than ever she can now see how much that means. 

She makes a mental note to ask Bran tomorrow if he could come and visit soon. She needs to keep these people close from now on, she decides.

And again she wonders, if maybe there’s a change that in time Gendry might be one of them again or if that is simply too much to ask. 

The thought makes her feel insecure and it makes her realise how tired she is. This, moving back home and settling into this familiar place in a new way, is a lot of work. Not to mention the new job and everything that comes with it, or these people she has both missed and dreaded meeting again. It takes a lot of getting used to all this again.   
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just realised this chapter hasn't got any Gendry in it, oops. But next chapter will be from his pov again so don't worry, he is not forgotten.


	4. A New Normal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She’s rambling, he notices with a hint of affection because that’s just such an Arya thing to do – that’s what she often does when she’s nervous, he realises. It’s either the nervous rambling when she has her guard down, or that still face of confidence she uses to hide those nerves, and Gendry much prefers the rambling. And that’s how he makes up his mind.
> 
> “Sure. I can help you,” he tells her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Someone asked when the Gendrya interaction without any third wheels is coming and here it is. Also, some angst on the way again.

Life settles into a rhythm, like it always does. It’s a flow very similar to what Gendry is used to, only with the exception of a new presence that seems to be there even more than he anticipated. 

Arya is not only around for pub nights, working out in the gym or sunday football. She’s there when he goes with Jon to fix a leaking sink at Sansa’s and to do a few other little chores that need taking care of around the house and Sansa isn’t able to get done because even Sansa can’t manage everything while raising a kid on her own. 

Arya’s there, holding her niece's hand, keeping the toddler out of the way and not getting annoyed by the fifth round of Twinkle, twinkle little star. Of course she also stays for the early dinner Sansa insist on making them as a thank you. 

Gendry is a little surprised though when he bumps into her at the supermarket closest to his home, realizing they live so near to each other they shop for groceries in the same spot. 

After that, he gets used to seeing her coming from her morning jog on the mornings he is out earlier than usual and running into her getting her coffee before going to work, because, of course, they both go to the same coffee shop, too.

Arya certainly is back. In Winterfell and in his life, even when they aren’t really making any effort to spend time together.

  
  


* * *

  
  


It’s one Friday night – one of those Fridays they are not meeting at the pub – that Gendry stumbles upon her in the grocery store once again. Arya is reaching for the top shelf, trying to get the glue, when he steps into the same aisle.

“Need some help?” he asks as he approaches her.

She steps down from the edge of the lowest shelf, releasing her hold on one of the top ones.

“Please,” she sighs. “Don’t know why they can’t have more of those ladder things around the store.

He grabs the bottle and hands it to her.

“You having an urge to glue stuff on a Friday night?”

“All my new furniture arrived yesterday. I’m just trying to put it all together and I needed some glue,” she explains. 

Then she seems to think something through in her head for a minute, looking like she’s trying to make up her mind.

“You wouldn’t happen to have some time to come help me?” she asks then.

She’s caught him by surprise, because no matter how much they have been seeing each other there has seemed to be this silent agreement that they don’t really reach out to each other. They don’t spend time together just the two of them. 

Yes, if they run into each other at the coffee shop in the morning they’ll exchange a few words and even walk together for the short distance they are heading towards the same direction because, sure, when they both work within walking distance from the coffee shop and they’ll be heading the same way for a couple of blocks, it would be weird if they left separately.

But no, they don’t hang out together and he’s never been to her flat even though he knows full well where exactly it is, having picked her up or dropped her off with Jon a couple of times.

He’s absentmindedly scratching the back of his head and Arya must pick up on that it’s taking him some time to answer, because she starts explaining.

“I can’t get a few things put together on my own and I can’t call Sansa right now because Lily's going to bed already. And you know how Jon is with that stuff, so, I just thought – if you’re not busy then you might…” She gazes up at him, looking almost shy, which is, he thinks, not a very common look on Arya.

“It’s really just a couple of steps that require two sets of hands, so it won’t take long,” she assures him.

“I mean, if you have something else planned, or – I didn’t mean to ambush you if you just wanted to get home to relax on a Friday night…”

She’s rambling, he notices with a hint of affection because that’s just such an Arya thing to do – that’s what she often does when she’s nervous, he realises. It’s either the nervous rambling when she has her guard down, or that still face of confidence she uses to hide those nerves, and Gendry much prefers the rambling. And that’s how he makes up his mind.

“Sure. I can help you,” he tells her. “Don’t have anything planned for the night and I can’t force you to have to go through that with Jon.”

She smiles.

“Just one condition,” he adds and she looks up with a hint of those nerves coming to the surface again.

“You need to buy some snacks.”

She grins at him, turning around and starting to walk towards the end of the aisle.

“Deal.”

* * *

  
  
  


Arya’s living room is filled with cardboard boxes, half-made furniture and pieces waiting to be attached to them.

“Didn’t want to make it too easy on yourself by just making one piece at a time?” Gendry has to ask as he takes a look at the disarray.

“I got stuck with that closet because that needs another set of hands so I started the shelf – but it turns out that one is also impossible to get together on my own,” Arya explain.

“And that… is that a table?” he enquiries, pointing at a third object, laying upside down on the floor. 

“That one just needed the glue.”

“Ah.”

Gendry lets his eyes wander around the room, wondering where they should start. Arya has already put the food she bought in her fridge and she walks through the mess in her living room to stand next to the pieces of that unfinished closet.

“If you just hold this door here so I can attach it. Then we just need to do the other door and then move the shelf and add one part to it and then I can get the rest of it done on my own,” she tells him, gesturing to the door lying on the floor. 

He watches Arya place her foot on the small patch of clean floor visible between the cardboard pieces, rubber and a plastic bag filled with screws.

He shakes his head and starts collecting pieces of cardboard and piling it into a corner.

“Let’s just clean a bit first so this place is less of a safety hazard and then we could maybe start with putting that table together so we can get it out of the way,” he tells her. 

Arya stays on her place, just watching him for a second.

“I’m here so I can work a little for those snacks,” he promises and sees Arya’s face relax into a smile.

“Okay. Let’s get to it then.”

Once they are done with the closet and the table, Arya gets both of them a drink, pouring some soda into glasses.

“I guess a beer would be a more traditional refreshment for this kind of activity but I don’t really keep those in the fridge so you’ll have to make do with this.”

“It’s okay,” he assures her. 

She has that look again, like she’s wondering whether to tell him something or not. Again, she decides to do so.

"I don't really drink much anymore. It's… Well, I just think it's better not to. For me, I mean," she shrugs. 

He nods, swirling his own glass of soda. 

"Yeah, I don't drink too much myself," he tells her. 

She looks at him with a question in her face. 

"Any specific reason for that?" she asks carefully. 

He ponders for a while on what to tell her, how much he's willing to share with her. He decides on part of the truth. 

"I guess this stuff became my escape a little too much for a while there." 

It’s a very much simplified version of the truth, but there's no lie in his words and Arya seems to be able to fill in the gaps, or at least she is satisfied enough with the answer and doesn't ask more about the subject. 

"This is better for the early morning workout, too," she says and he realises that not only does he witness her apparently already returning from her run when he is out earlier than normal in the morning but also that if he sees her at the gym it's always her that's already there when he comes in on Sunday mornings and on those rare mornings he manages to go there before work during the week. 

He had had the feeling she was working out a lot but now he also realises she is most often doing it early in the morning. 

That's new, he thinks because Arya never used to be one for the early mornings. 

"You work out a lot, don't you?" he asks even though he thinks he already knows the answer. 

Arya shrugs. 

"Yeah, I guess. I mean, depends who you’re comparing it to…" 

He fixes her a stare, raising his eyebrows. 

"Normal people?" 

She chuckles. 

"Fine," she smiles, "I guess I do work out a lot." 

Then, adding like it's not a big deal. 

"Kinda needed a new addiction and sport seemed like the best one to pick."

She walks back to the center of her living room and picks up a stack of papers withthe instructions on building the shelf she has half finished and starts to look them through. Gendry takes a minute to digest all the new information and then, without another comment, sets his drink on the newly glued table and steps closer to Arya. 

"So here's my set of hands at your service, tell me what to do."

  
  


* * *

  
  
  


Sunday afternoon a couple of weeks later finds them in the park, playing football like they always do. Arya and Tormund run off to the other end of the park, both yelling dirty comments at each other as Arya tries to grab her phone from Tormund's hands and Tormund laughs like a maniac. The tallest and the shortest person Gendry knows make a weird looking pair as they sprint away.

Jon and Gendry sit down on the bench, watching after the two lunatics.

“She’s doing good now, isn’t she?” 

Jon is watching Arya and his voice is so proud. And Gendry must agree, it looks like Arya is doing good. But Jon seems to notice the hesitation in his agreement.

“What?” he asks.

Gendry raises one hand in an vague gesture.

“I don’t know. She’s been here for what, less than two months now?” 

“So?”

“Sooo – ” he drags out the word. “I don’t know her, don’t really know anything about her anymore, so who am I to judge how she’s doing or what she’s doing or anything,” he tries to explain, but it doesn’t feel like the words come out right. 

And to be perfectly honest, he’s not exactly sure what he’s trying to say anyway. That it still hurts being around her? That sometimes she reminds her younger self so much that Gendry has trouble not touching her like he used to do? That he is constantly wondering if she is still using something but is just good enough to hide it from them all?

“Are you still mad at her?” Jon asks.

He shakes his head. No, no, he really…

“You could just cut her some slack.”

He sighs, frustrated.

“Cut her some slack? I’m sorry Jon, I know how you guys have always been, but it’s not the same for me. She did some pretty stupid things back then.”

“Yes she did, but it was the whole situation. And the shit she was using. You know what it was like, we both know,” Jon says and Gendry knows very well what Jon means. 

_ We did it enough, too. She might have never gotten into it without us. _

That guilt is something he knows Jon has lived with. The thought that maybe having his little sister following him all the time wasn’t such a good thing after all. That maybe if they’d told her to stay back more often, to stay home, maybe she would have just stayed that girl who went to fencing classes and loved to run out wild with her dog. Maybe if she hadn’t gone out drinking with them since she was 15 and smoking pot with them casually when they were just sitting in the park on summer nights, maybe then she wouldn’t have started using all the other stuff.

“You know it was not like that for us,” he insist. 

They’ve had this conversation before, multiple times. More times than Gendry cares to remember he has listened to a brooding Jon – more than once he’s been drunk, too – ramble on and on about how it was mostly his fault what happened to Arya. That Jon had been too focused on his own problems and he didn't even realise what her sister had got herself into. 

More than once he has reminded Jon that Arya was never one to follow anyone blindly, not even her favorite older brother, and that that much should be obvious looking at how differently they chose to deal with everything eventually. That no, it was not the summer nights in the park that made her make mistakes later on – for all they know being so close to Jon was what saved her in the end.

No, they can’t say they had nothing to do with it because they both most certainly had. They were with her in the beginning, they even tried some of those pills she ended up using more regularly. 

But Arya went and found other friends, too, friends who helped her turn stupid experiments into ugly patterns of behaviour. And by that time Gendry and Jon had been out of their depth, unable to help her get away from it all.

They sit silently, watching Arya chase Tormund around a tree, trying to fight the guy who must be at least three times her size. Unrelenting in a way that is so unmistakably Arya.

“Well, either way, it was a long time ago and she’s not doing that anymore,” Jon says, smiling at the sight.

Gendry looks at his friend, so happy right there. He hopes for Jon’s sake at least it’s true – and alright, for his own sake, too, if he’s being honest. He might not know for sure how to deal with Arya, or how he feels about her anymore, but he does not want to see her like she was. The woman now screaming and laughing while Tormund has lifted her high above the ground like she weighs nothing is a much better sight.

  
  


* * *

  
  
  


When they are done with playing for the day they collect their stuff and head to the parking lot. Arya arrived there jogging and Gendry has promised to give her a drive home – he feels it would be  impolite not to offer since they live so close to each other. Jon has already climbed on his bike and is leaving. 

One minute Jon is shouting some idiotic joke over his shoulder at them, gathering his speed as he pedals away and the next – there’s a car and the sound of someone pushing down the brakes, the car coming to a fast stop and then the bang – and then Jon flies over the handlebar, over the front of the car, hitting the pavement on the other side of it.

For a second they all just stay still, but then Arya is sprinting towards Jon and Tormund is shouting at her to look where she's running so she won't be hit by a car, too, and that's when Gendry follows her, running to see Jon sprawl there, on the ground. 

First it seems Jon is just lying there, that he might be unconscious – or, no, Gendry won't think about it – but when Gendry crouches down next to him and the panicked Arya mumbling an incomprehensible string of words, Jon moves a little and lets out a voice between a groan and a moan, clearly in pain. 

"Don't move," Tormund tells him but Jon is already sitting up, holding his other arm, vincing as he tries to straighten his back but can't do it. Arya is kneeling next to him, hand on his shoulder, examining the tear on the shoulder of his shirt. 

"We should call an ambulance," Gendry says but Jon shakes his head

"If one of you will just give me a ride to the hospital. It'll probably be faster, too." 

They help Jon into the backseat of Gendry's car with his head on Arya's lap and Tormund promises to take care of the bike, lifting it on the  back of his truck. 

The ride to the hospital is quiet. Gendry asks Jon how he's doing, thinking it might be a good idea to keep him talking, hoping it might distract him from the pain he is so obviously in. Arya has gone silent and takes no part in the conversation. Gendry can see her from his rear view mirror and she has squeezed her eyes shut and is biting her lip. She keeps nodding her head in a fast, nervous pace and Gendry has a feeling she has no idea she's doing that. 

At the hospital Jon is helped onto a gurney and a nurse starts looking at his injuries immediately. Soon enough there's a doctor, too, and once some basic questions have been answered Gendry and Arya are left on the side to wait. 

Arya still seems lost in her head, her arms wrapped around herself, her eyes nervously skirting around the space. 

Gendry leans his head back against the wall, sighing. This is something he does not want to do.

After a lengthy examination and some x-rays Jon is prescribed a couple of meds and they are told those can already be picked up from the hospital pharmacy while they wait for Jon's CT scan. That is, the doctor assures them, just a safety procedure since he is pretty convinced there has been no real damage to Jon's head. He wore a helmet so a mild concussion is all the doctor suspects and most likely if Jon did pass out for a second it was from the pain in his arm that is broken and his back that got strained badly when he hit the ground. 

"Can you get the meds, Arya?" Jon looks at his sister who still hasn't uttered a word. 

Arya shifts uneasily. 

"I don't think I… And shouldn't you stay here for the night?" she asks, as if she hasn’t heard a thing the doctors said, or she doesn't believe their words. 

Jon groans. Gendry suspects he’s still in pain and does not have the patience he normally does. Jon looks at Arya, worried and tired. Arya is avoiding eye contact, biting her lip and fumbling with the sleeve of her jacket – she hasn’t taken it off even though they have been inside for more than an hour and it is quite warm, stiffy even. 

It’s very clear she is not really handling this situation right now.

”You heard the doctor, I’m perfectly okay to go home – to Sansa’s.”

Arya just shakes her head. She has closed her eyes and it almost looks like she hasn’t got a good idea of her surroundings.

”Arya.”

”What?” she snaps. 

Jon is trying, despite his frustration, he is very much trying to make Arya cooperate with him, trying desperately to figure out a way to make her feel better. But Arya seems to be lost in her mind, falling deeper into her panic.

"We could ask the doctor for something to calm you, just for tonight. To help you sleep." 

Arya doesn't even bother answering that, she just chokes out a dry laugh – it's kind of hysteric, Gendry thinks. 

"We'll just both go to Sansa’s and I can rest and you can take a bath or something and it will be fine," Jon tries then. 

But Arya's shaking her head again. She's saying something but she's mumbling and it's hard to hear the exact words – it's something about going home, about Jon staying in the hospital. Jos tries telling her the doctor said he could go home as long as he isn’t alone and that it would be better if Arya wasn't alone either, but Arya just keeps shaking her head, telling them she can handle it – when it is very obvious she can't. 

"Will you just please calm down, Ar. I'm fine, it was nothing," Jon says, frustration leaking through his voice. That seems like the wrong thing to do since Arya snaps immediately. 

"No it's not you idiot!" 

"Stop overreacting. Just be useful and get those damn meds and we can get away from here!" 

Jon has raised his voice – he is clearly tired, and not in a place where he can really take into account other people's feelings – and Gendry can see how his words seem to almost physically hit Arya. 

And then, without another word, she's turning around and leaving. 

“Arya! Arya, just – wait!” Jon tries yelling after her, but she speeds up and has already disappeared around the corner, towards the entrance and probably outside. 

Gendry runs a hand over his face before he turns back to Jon who now looks like he has realised he's made a mistake with yelling at Arya. 

"Shit." 

Yes, indeed. 

Arya refusing to talk. Arya not letting anyone do anything for her. Arya walking away. It feels all too familiar. It feels exactly as it did seven years ago. She never did let them help. 

Gendry runs a hand over his face, watching Jon sit on his bed with no idea what he should do.

  
  
  


All the stupid things she did when she was using, none of them she did to hurt him. But they did hurt, more than anything. 

Especially the one thing she did when she wasn’t even on anything. She was sober when she left, sober for long enough to make the decision and say her goodbyes to her siblings. Not long enough to say goodbye to him, apparently. But sober or not, she left him and she left and stayed away.

He had been so stupid, so inexplicably, utterly stupid to think it would have been enough, that he would have been enough to pull her through. He is older now, has seen more, and he knows that’s not how it works. 

_ No one can keep anyone safe _ , Sansa had once said. She had been referring to some of the other horrors that had been thrown on their way – god knows Sansa had had her share of them. But Sansa’s words were true in regards Arya, too. 

Maybe that realisation born out of her own experiences was why Sansa had seemed to accept it the best out of them all when Arya had left. Sansa knew Arya could not stay. She knew none of them could save Arya, it was for Arya to do and if she needed to leave to do it then trying to make her stay would only make things worse.

Gendry might accept that, but the way she just disappeared after the fire, that is a different thing. 

So Gendry really does have enough experience with Arya in similar situations and his experiences do not encourage him to take any part in this occasion. In fact he is very much hoping he could have left Tormund to take the two siblings to the hospital. Taking care of a bike sounds like a good option right now.

With that thought in mind he watches Jon leave for the scan and tells him he needs some air. 

  
  
  


When Gendry walks out of the sliding doors, he notices a figure to his left. Arya is standing there, near a wall, eyes closed, breathing in through her nose, out through her mouth, fingers moving in a way that makes him think she’s counting seconds to calm herself.

For a moment he considers if he should just walk further away from the building and pretend he didn’t see her there. Whatever Arya is thinking, if she’s losing it, if this is something she can’t handle – it’s really not his place anymore. It’s not a mess he wants to be a part of anymore. 

But it seems he can’t help it, not when Arya is concerned.

“Hey,” he starts, carefully. 

She opens her eyes, turning towards him. 

“Every time,” he hears her mutter. “Every fucking time.”

She’s shaking her head, laughing a laugh that has no hint of happiness in it. There’s this look on her face, this grimace, and she keeps shaking her head like she can’t believe what's happening.

“It never fucking ends. It will never end, it’s...”

She plants both her hands on the wall and lets her forehead follow, resting it against the stone.

“Fuck.”

She’s shaking now, her eyes shut again and he can see tears on her cheek.

Gendry has no idea what to do – this is an Arya he doesn’t know how to deal with anymore, if he ever did. Once he would have held her, held her so tight, just to keep her close, but that’s really not what he feels like he can do right now.

Arya looks so small.

She looks like she did when her mother died, he thinks, remembering a different time in the parking lot of a different hospital and a much younger Arya.

She's losing it, she's totally losing it, and once again there's nothing he can do but to witness her pain. And that thought scares him more than anything. This, this right here is exactly what he wanted to guard himself from. 

"Jon went to his scan and I came to take a breath. If… If you want we can go get some tea or something," he says just to say something. 

For a moment Arya just continues standing there against the wall and he feels helpless. 

But then she drags in a long, ragged breath, moves her hands up and down in front of her, pushes the air out of her mouth with a purposely loud noise and repeats her breathing a few more times – in through the nose, out through the mouth. She holds her hand on her stomach as if to feel the way the air flows through her, concentrated. 

And then she turns to look at him with a much calmer if yet still worried expression on her face. 

There’s a determination there, too, and that caughts him unprepared.

"Could you come with me to the pharmacy?" she asks him. 

"I kinda shouldn't be buying drugs like these – that one painkiller has morphine, and – "

She gestures pointedly with her hand and yes, he gets what she's saying. 

He nods eyes wide with surprise by the turn of events. 

"Yeah. Of course I'll come with you." 

* * *

  
  
  


Lily is already asleep when they arrive at Sansa’s. Sansa greets them with a worried face that seems to be directed at Arya as much as Jon and Gendry guesses Jon must have informed her of the events of the evening. 

"There’s that box of your old comics on your bed still, I couldn't lift that up to the top shelf," Sansa tells them. 

"I'll get it," Gendry offers immediately and he and Jon go upstairs to make sure he can get into his bed without using his left arm. 

When they come back down, Arya is nowhere to be seen and Sansa is fumbling with something in the kitchen. 

"You guys will be okay now, won't you?" he asks, feeling both hesitant to leave but also like he's intruding when everyone clearly wants to get to bed already. 

Jon claps his arm with his good hand in a calming gesture. 

"Don’t worry. About me or Arya."

That is easier said than done after today’s events, but he still says his goodbyes to Jon and Sansa and leaves.

  
  
  


Arya is sitting on the front steps when Gendry gets out of the house. She turns her head as she hears him close the door and gives him a small smile, standing up. 

For a second they just stand there awkwardly but then Arya speaks. 

“Thanks Gendry, for everything.”

“It’s okay. Jon’s my mate,” he shrugs. 

He feels like it’s a shitty thing to say – he knows she’s not just thanking him for driving them to the hospital or back here, that she’s thanking him for helping her, too. But he doesn’t know what to call her, he doesn’t know if she’s his friend or if he really wants her to be. So he can’t bring himself to say that. It seems like Arya is reading his mind.

“I didn’t just mean with Jon,” she says quietly.

“The pharmacy… And me, losing it. I’m really sorry you had to see it.”

"It’s okay,” he tells her.

“No, it wasn't fair on you. You don’t – you shouldn’t have to deal with my messes anymore. I’ve caused you enough trouble.”

That’s the closest to an apology he’s ever heard from her in reference to the events years ago. 

“I should have asked you, when I came back,” she says and he raises his eyes to look at her, to find out what she’s talking about.

“I should have asked you if you’d wish I’d stayed back a bit, maybe not come to football or find another gym or something. Not force you to hang out with me all the time.”

He sighs.

“It’s okay, Arya.”

Because really, it is. Or well it isn’t what he’d had hoped for, and it wasn’t much fun, not at first. But he is getting used to it – and he can’t deny he has even started to enjoy her company, too, even if it all still makes him feel weird at times and he is nervous of moving forward in this new relationship of theirs.

Maybe it’s all showing in his face, the insecurity and the nerves and the anxiousness. The way he is scared of this all. 

She raises her hand cautiously, brushing the tips of her fingers against the side of his face. Her touch is feather light like she’s afraid putting any more pressure would scare him off. Maybe she’s right, he thinks.

There’s a sad look on her face and she looks so fragile that he thinks he has to breath carefully so he won't break her.

He suddenly wants to tell her he’ll protect her from any harm the world might try to throw on her way. But he’s aware she would not believe words like that. She’d agree to her sister words and tell him no one can keep anyone safe.

“You still have the bluest eyes I’ve ever seen,” she whispers. 

“And the kindest,” she adds so quietly he can barely hear her.

Her finger traces his jaw before she lets her hand drop down. She bites her lip as she steps back. She swallows and blinks and he thinks it’s to force down some tears.

“Goodnight, Gendry.” 

She gives him one last quick look and then walks the steps up to the house, leaving him standing there, overwhelmed. 


	5. Can’t stop this

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gendry's eyes sweep her from head to toe and up again, lingering on her feet. She can't hide the smirk on her face or her signature lift of one eyebrow when his eyes meet hers again. 
> 
> He averts his eyes, looking a little embarrassed, pursing his lips and scratching his neck in an effort to look totally casual. The result is as good as it would be if he were screaming that there's nothing to see.
> 
> Arya finds it adorable, the way he still gets awkward — and the way that he seems unable to stop himself from throwing one of those glances at her again. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You wanted more Gendrya interaction and here's a chapter full of it. And also a chapter with a lighter tone, so I'm hoping thats alright with you (I am getting the feeling people who read this really like the angst - but don't you worry, there's more of that to come, too).

The night after the accident Arya sleeps in Jon's old room, curled up next to him in a way they haven't slept in more than ten years. She stays awake for hours, listening to him breath and wakes him up a few times like they were advised to do. 

But mostly she just lies there, watching him. 

She knows Jon knows as well as she does that it's more to calm her own mind than to actually take care of Jon, but is glad he says nothing about it. 

We're good, she repeats to herself over and over again in her head. He wasn't hurt badly, he's safe. 

_We are all safe._

_I can do this._

When she finally falls asleep, it's with her hand so close to Jon's back she can feel the warmth radiating from him in a sure sign that he is still very much among the living. She hasn’t lost any more people she loves. 

* * *

The next morning Arya texts her boss to tell her she'll come in a little later today due to an ‘accident in the family'. She has a long breakfast with Jon and Sansa with some serious discussion but some lighter chat, too, and it all helps to calm her down enough so that after Sansa drives them all to town she changes her clothes and gets to the museum and is mostly able to focus on her work. 

She has an emergency session with her therapist in the afternoon and the lady convinces her to stop scolding herself for panicking. 

"Anyone can panic like that when their loved one is hurt. That's normal. Don't focus on the fact that you lost your control for a moment. Focus on the fact that you were able to calm yourself and be functional again." 

"But I couldn't even help Jon. And I ran away," she insists. 

"A person can freeze, it's not uncommon. And you didn't run. You removed yourself from the immediate situation that made you feel unwell. You didn't leave the town, you just left the room. It's wise to do that when you feel like you need some space." 

That’s what Arya keeps repeating to herself, slowly letting go of the self-deprecating. She tries, she really tries to focus on the good, the fact that she had pulled herself up.

Jon comes to eat pizza with her in the evening and stays to watch tv till late at night. They talk for hours and Arya feels like it might be all okay.

  
  


* * *

  
  
  


On tuesday morning, after completing her usual run and getting ready for work, she sees Gendry at the coffee shop. He's opening the door as she rounds the corner and Arya takes a couple of fast strides to reach him before he's at the counter. 

"Let me buy you a coffee. As a thank you."

Gendry shakes his head. 

"It's okay." 

"No, really," she insist. "Black, righ?" 

He nods and she tells their order to the girl behind the counter. 

“Are you in a hurry?” she asks him and when he shakes his head she suggests they sit down for a couple of minutes on one of the little tables outside in front of the coffee shop. 

They drink their coffees in silence for a little while, watching the people going on with their morning.

”I’m seeing someone,” she blurts out and as his eyes widen in a surprise she realises how that must have sounded.

”I mean a therapist, not like… Dating, or anything. I’m definitely not seeing anyone like that, haven’t been in a while. I mean, it’s never really worked out that well when first I just wasn’t ready and then I wasn’t interested and now with the new job and everything and I wouldn’t even have time to meet anyone or…” 

She closes her mouth, realising that he didn’t actually ask anything about that matter and that he probably is not even interested in her private life or how it was while she was away.

”That’s good,” he says, awkwardly. ”I mean the therapist.”

“Yeah,” she agrees. “I had one in Essos, too, and it’s recommended to keep it up especially when there’s big changes in life.”

She watches the traffic again for a couple of minutes.

“I know you don’t think you did much on Sunday, but what you did, it really helped. The way you just were there and spoke to me and were calm. It helped.”

Gendry looks like he doesn’t know what to make of her words. No, he never was good at accepting any kind of praise or even a simple thank you. He would always be there to help his friends but when you thanked him he would get awkward.

So she decides to let it go for now. They get up and walk together for the couple of blocks they can and talk about work, morning runs and the weather getting warmer.

“So you run every morning?” Gendry asks her.

“Four days a week. Monday mornings it’s yoga and Sundays gym,” she explains.

“That’s a tight schedule.”

“I’m a creature of habit."

And, because she has this strange feeling that being as honest as she can with Gendry is the way to go right now, she adds,

"It's good for recovering of an addiction, too. The schedule.”

She notices him glancing towards her, but he won’t say a thing — he probably doesn’t know what to say, she guesses.

“I’m good. I’ve been good. But I stick to the routine for the most part, especially now with the move and everything. And this week especially feels like a time when routine is good.”

Gendry nods, giving her a smile.

“Sounds great. I’m just amazed because you didn’t use to be much of an early bird.”

She’s surprised of his reference to their shared past, he’s been so strict about not discussing it. So she doesn’t explain it too much, just says:

“There’s a lot less stupid things to do at 7 am.”

  
  
  


They start doing that, drinking their coffee together in the mornings they happen to be at the coffee shop at the same time. Which seems to be at least a couple of times a week. 

They sit there in front of the coffee shop when it's sunny and inside if the weather is bad and ten minutes turn in to fifteen and fifteen into thirty. Arya convinces Gendry to join her on her morning jog once a week and after a couple of weeks she talks him into coming with her to her monday morning yoga class. 

She can’t help but to show off a little bit, making sure she chooses all the most difficult options, stretches her muscles in the most impressive ways she can and keeps an indifferent smile on her face, smirking at him whenever their eyes meet, challenging him. 

Gendry has told her he’s been to yoga only once before, but he approaches the exercice with a calmness, not complaining if it isn’t his thing, just silently laughing at his poor attempts a couple of times during the class. It’s the same way he seems to approach most things now. He knows who he is and what he can do and isn’t affected too much if he faces a small challenge. 

It’s the same way he has been with her the entire time she has been back. He’s polite, he’s nice, he’s considerate. He makes sure he greets her nicely enough every time they see each other, he makes sure he talks to her, a couple of sentences about the weather at least. She’s sure he felt awkward and nervous at first — she saw it, in fact, because he still can’t pretend to save his life — but he’s made sure to act like a proper adult and he doesn’t appear to be awkward anymore.

The calmness makes him attractive — a thought that a teenaged Arya would have found utterly impossible. 

No, the teenage version of her had been more inclined to another side of Gendry, the one with the fuck the authorities attitude and the willingness to follow up with all of her crazy ideas, not too afraid about the fact that those were likely to get them into trouble more often than not. The teenage Arya really didn’t mind if Gendry threw a punch at some idiot or at least threatened to do so, his size and that scowl of his making the threats believable enough.

Although if the teenage Arya had been honest with herself she should have admitted that the way Gendry took care of her and made her feel safe was always part of his charm. 

But now more than ever, it is the feeling that he would not hesitate to tell her off when she'd suggest something he would not think would be a good idea, the feeling that he would not waver, that he was in no way interested in taking unnecessary risks just to impress her — now those things are kind of attractive. 

And no, while Gendry is calm in a new way, he's not boring, she's seen that. He hasn't teased her the way he used to but she's heard him throw jabs at Jon and even Sansa. She's seen him tackle Tormund to the ground at the football field. She's seen him make Lily giggle uncontrollably. She's even seen him chuckle with someone in the pub, making the person blush, in a manner that Arya is sure is flirting. 

He does all that but he is also, apparently, a skilled professional who knows how to handle all the mundane responsibilities of adult life, knows how to fix a leaking sink and how to talk to children. He has a manager position at work, he owns his home and he wears a button up shirt five days a week and doesn’t look uncomfortable in it. 

Gendry has his life in order and that is a turn on for her. 

Oh dear god I've become old, Arya groans to herself thinking about it. 

  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  


It sometimes feels like it could not have been her own life because it seems so strange to her now, but Arya does remember when she was so young her life was just a blank canvas before her. And her and Gendry… She had already known there were feelings there but it was still all unwritten, the maps hadn't been drawn yet and there were so many things in the world to discover for each of them and for them together.

Now the world does not feel as open anymore. There are many doors that have been closed for good, many options that are no longer available. 

Yet he is still there. He may not be hers anymore, not like he used to be, but he is there and it feels so clear every time they talk or just exist near each other that there will always be something special between them. Gendry will never be just someone, just an old friend or an acquaintance, not to her. 

  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  
  


Arya straightens the hem of her dress and puts on her jacket, looking at the mirror in her hallway for what must be the tenth time at least. Her phone peeps and just as she guesses, it’s Sansa.

“We’re here,” the text only says.

Arya picks her bag, makes sure she has her keyes and heads out. There, in front of her building, Sansa’s car is already waiting for her.

“Hey, Lily love,” she greets the kid on the back seat as she opens the back door just to give her a kiss before she closes the door and gets in the passenger seat next to her sister.

“Jon said he’s already there but I promised him we’ll give him a drive home after the party because he complained about not being able to ride his bike yet and driving being difficult, " Sansa explains. 

Arya huffs. 

"He’s taking advance of that injury of his."

"Totally," Sansa agrees. 

“You’re still coming over tonight?” she asks, eyeing the small bag Arya has.

“I am,” Arya promises. “Just didn’t pack a lot of stuff.”

Arya turns her head towards the backseat.

“Do you remember, Lily? I’m coming to a sleepover after the birthday party!” she tells the girl in an excited voice. 

“That is the only thing she’s been talking since you two came up with the idea on Wednesday,” Sansa says, rolling her eyes, pretending to be annoyed. 

But Arya knows her sister better. She knows Sansa loves it when they she has guests over and she loves how well Arya and her daughter get along. And she also loves all the help she can get, too, since raising a toddler on her own is a lot of work even if Sansa is not one to complain.

It doesn't stop astonishing Arya how much Sansa’s life has changed, hugely because she decided that being possibly indefinitely unable to trust men did not mean she had to give up on her hope to become a mother and thus getting pregnant and having a child on her own. A decision Arya thinks fits Sansa perfectly. If anyone, Sansa can manage raising a kid on her own — and besides she's not on her own. Jon has been there and Arya plans on doing the same from now on. 

  
  


They make the drive to Sam and Gilly’s house quickly, the place being not very far from the centre of the town. There, Arya can immediately spot balloons tied to the post box and a few more to the pillar at the entrance.

“So do Gilly and Sam go all out for these birthday parties?” Arya enquiries Sansa because frankly, decorations in the front of the house seem a bit excessive in her opinion for a birthday celebration for a three year old.

Appearing to read her mind, Sansa laughs as she parks the car.

“If you can make the kids happy by putting a couple of balloons somewhere then that’s probably a good thing to do. I don’t think they have paid for catering or a clown, don’t worry.” 

Arya decides Sansa most likely has a point, once again. 

“So this is not a huge event?” she still has to make sure.

“I don’t even know if there will be any other kids than theirs and Lily so I think you can relax,” Sansa assures her as she helps her daughter off her seat. 

Lily holds her arms out instantly, wanting to be carried by her aunt since they haven’t met in a couple of days and Arya follows Sansa in. 

  
  
  


“You want one?” Gilly asks Arya, gesturing towards a few glasses of champagne set on the kitchen counter.

Arya nods enthusiastically — eager for the adult part of this party — at least as long as it involves adults she knows and likes.

“Please. This is better than what I was expecting."

Gilly hands her one with a smile.

“The party is mostly for the kids but no reason we can’t have something for us, too.”

“I think we deserve it,” Sansa says attempting a serious face as she comes to stand next to Arya with a glass of her own.

“Arya was kinda worried about this event beforehand.”

“This your first time in one of these things? As an adult, I mean?” Gilly asks, sympathetically.

Arya nods. She has been a bit worried what this day would include. She loves Lily but the stereotypical child's birthday party with screaming children and weird relatives asking when she'll have her own kids does not strike her as something she'd enjoy. 

Admittedly, her idea of a party like that is derived mostly from the movies and stories she has heard from other people — this is, as noted, her first time in one as an adult —, but she is fairly certain stuff like that could actually happen and she has some very bad memories of her own or someone elses old relatives being way too nosy. 

“Don’t worry, they are not that bad — well not ours at least, I don’t think,” Gilly says.

Sansa is nodding in agreement.

“If I may say it myself I think we are acing this parenting thing dear Gilly,” Sansa says, tapping her class against Gilly’s.

“Oh I think we truly are.”

Arya shakes her head at the two mothers, although she must admit this setting does not seem as bad as she was expecting. 

“I’ll leave you two to enjoy your excellency on your own,” she tells them, walking towards a tall figure she has just spotted in the living room.

  
  


“I have to say I did not think this would be your type of a situation,” she greets Gendry as she gets closer to him.

“You get used to anything, don’t you?” he shrugs.

His eyes sweep her from head to toe and up again, lingering on her feet. She can't hide the smirk on her face or her signature lift of one eyebrow when his eyes meet hers again. 

He averts his eyes, looking a little embarrassed, pursing his lips and scratching his neck in an effort to look totally casual. The result is as good as it would be if he were screaming that there's nothing to see.

Arya finds it adorable, the way he still gets awkward — and the way that he seems unable to stop himself from throwing one of those glances at her again. 

And if she trusts her ability to read his expressions as well as she always did she is pretty sure that is a look of appreciation, a sign that her dressing up was not for nothing. 

If she were brave enough, she’d tell him the feeling is mutual. He doesn’t have a button up today, it’s just a clean t—shirt, impeccably fitting and obviously ironed. ( _Gendry irons his shirts? He’s truly an adult._ ) His hair is freshly cut — he had mentioned going to the barber one morning this week when they met at the coffee shop — and he looks very prim and proper. And very, very handsome, she must admit.  
  


Somehow things have changed after that yoga class. It’s like the coffees and the running in the morning don’t really count — they just do that because they happen to be in the same area anyways and might both be doing the same thing separately (although Arya isn’t sure if Gendry has ever done any jogging in the morning on his own — but that feels like it’s beside the point). Even the Friday night spent assembling her furniture was just a coincidence, it just happened because they ran into each other at the supermarket.

But yoga, that was an arranged engagement in a set location, they went there together and they left together, they even got sandwiches together after the class. 

If before they were just two people who happened to meet each other because they lived in the same neighbourhood and knew the same people, now it feels like they are friends again. Arya could not be more happy about that.

But in addition to the friendship it feels like there’s that something else, too, that’s coming closer to the surface again. It’s not there all the time — there's too much nervousness and hesitation and all the stuff they have not had the courage to address yet but probably should at some point, in some way at least — but it is definitely there.

The attraction, the pull between them, it still feels unavoidable and Arya has a feeling it might not just be her attraction to Gendry’s new calmness.

* * *

One of Arya’s fondest memories from her youth is the first time she kissed Gendry. They had been skinny dipping once again, in the middle of the night. It was early june, so the water of the lake was cold — too cold for skinny dipping in the middle of the night, really — but the weather had turned warmer and the night air wasn’t that cold — it wasn’t freezing, at least.

Arya had stolen his t-shirt when she ran back from the water, feeling too chilly in just her top and leather jacket after the cold water. She sat down facing the lake. 

Gendry, sitting there beside her on the bench facing the water looked so beautiful in the light of the summer’s night. He was smiling, the tips of his hair were wet and he had pushed his hands into his pockets, trying to make himself feel warm despite losing his t—shirt.

So she just leaned closer and pressed a kiss to his lips. When she pulled back he was looking at her, with a smile on his lips but a question in his eyes. No, he didn’t look shocked and he definitely did not look offended or annoyed or angry. So she decided to just smile at him.

And that was that. There was no conversation, not as much as awkwardness really. It was sort of like a silent agreement, that kisses were okay now. He might give her a kiss when he dropped her off after a night of driving around. She might peck his lips when he bought her an ice cream. There might be a quick kiss before they fell asleep next to each other in her bed.

Arya remembers the first time those short pecks turned into more, too. It was a night in her own bed, in her bedroom when once again Gendry had decided to sleep in the Stark house instead of his own small flat.

She woke in the middle of the night, feeling Gendry’s arms wrapped around her waist. The night had ended with a soft kiss on the cheek and Arya pulling up the blankets as Gendry settled against her back. Now she felt perfectly comfortable there and was ready to go back to sleep but Gendry’s arm moving on her side made her think he might be awake, too. So she turned around to face him, finding his eyes in the almost darkness. 

“Hey,” she said quietly. Gendry smiled at her, she could just make out the expression on his face despite the small amount of light in the room.

“Hey.”

He was so near and that was not anything new, but he was and he was smiling at her, looking at her with that soft expression on his face that she could recognise no matter how dark it was. She could never tell which one of them moved first or if they did it at the same time, but suddenly they were even closer than before, their faces almost touching.

And when her lips touched his it was not quick, or a peck that lingered a bit, it was with open mouths, lips melding into each other, brushing against each other again and again. 

His fingers curled on her back, crabbing the material of her shirt and her fingers threading in his hair.

They kissed and kissed, hands gliding on each other innocently enough but full of meaning until she felt like she needed to stop — to breath but also to just keep it together before it became too much. 

So she pulled back, staying close, and leaned her forehead against his, panting from all the kissing. 

"Should we go to sleep?" she asked Gendry in a whisper. 

He cleared his throat, appearing to try to calm himself just as much as she was, and swallowed. 

"Probably yeah." 

She slid down on the mattress just a bit, burrowing her head in his chest, under his chin. 

She could feel him, breathing a bit less steady than he normally did, shifting his body to get a comfortable position and adjusting his arms around her. 

As she laid there, trying to calm down enough to fall asleep again she was fairly certain he was awake, too. But finally his breathing calmed and she fell asleep, too. 

They didn't talk about that either but like the quick kisses, these longer, more passionate ones with wandering hands became a recurring thing as well. They were part of what they did, not all the time but often enough so that after a few weeks it was hard to remember there was a time when she didn't know the feeling of Gendry's lips sliding on her neck. 

It’s been years since she has felt Gendry's lips on hers but for some reason right now, at a kids birthday party Arya can’t help thinking if he would still kiss her the same way he did back then.

  
  


* * *

It’s eight o’clock when she realises she hasn’t seen Gendry for a while. She walks through the rooms, finally stepping out into the back porch and finding him there, silently going through his phone near the railing facing the garden.

“Had enough of the screaming children?” she asks.

He raises his face from the phone, chuckling. 

“The noise did get a bit much there for a moment.”

“At least we both get to go home alone and enjoy the silence and not having to put a kid coming down from a sugar high to bed.”

“Well there is that going for us.”

But then Arya remembers she isn't actually going home that night but in fact, she is going to be putting a toddler to bed. 

She groans. 

"What?" 

"Just remembered I'm going to Sansa’s for the night," she explains. 

"My condolences," Gendry offers. 

Arya sighs. 

“I guess I can survive one night. But I’ll just hide from the kids here with you for now if that’s okay.”

“You’re welcome.”

Arya wonders if she should tell Gendry about the weird feeling she’s had since she’s been back. About how the rest of them appear to be all grown up and have their lives in order — kids and houses and mortgages and careers and nice little gathering like this one — but she feels like she’s still just learning how to do all of it, how to be a proper adult.

And the way she remembers them all, the way she is used to thinking of them, is getting drunk on weeknights and spending whole days sprawled around someone’s flat eating pizza out of the box and watching whatever shitty movie was on tv, not caring how many hours passed and definitely not worrying over a toddlers nap time.

But she doesn’t want to draw attention to the years she spent away, so she settles next to Gendry, running her finger along the curvy design of the railing and decides on a lighter topic.

"So are you a yoga believer already?" 

He chuckles again. 

"It wasn't that bad but I think it would take a lot of work to get me as bendy as you are or make it look as good." 

He smiles and again his eyes sweep down to her legs, bare under the dress and — is he flirting? 

Yes, Arya is pretty sure he is and maybe he has been doing it this entire day and that is just — 

Oh dear lord that is giving her a dizzying feeling she doesn't remember feeling in a long, long time.   
  


She’ll blame it on the champagne even though she’s only had a little over one glass. She’ll blame it on the drink anyways, because she doesn’t actually want to think what it would mean to admit she’d want to do it just as badly without any alcohol passing through her system.

She turns to face him, meeting his eyes, and steps closer, her hand reaching for his shoulder. 

She presses her mouth on his and he answers with the same, insistent way, moving his lips in sync with her. She’s on her toes, her hand on his chest and he’s pulling her closer by her waist and they are moving in a calm pace but it’s not really soft, the way they kiss is more like desperate. 

His hands are gentle on her waist, but they hold her firmly close to him. There’s no hesitation. He’s leaning down to be able to kiss her despite their height difference and there’s a small space between their bodies — he’s not pulling her any closer, but not letting go either. He’s just there, persistent and steady.

She feels lost in the feeling of Gendry — _oh my god this is actually Gendry kissing her, letting her kiss him_ —

“Arya!” 

The shout from inside pulls them apart. They stand there, both breathing hard, staring at each other before another shout breaks them from their reverie.

“I should go,” Arya says.

“Yeah. You should,” Gendry says, sounding breathless and unsure.

“I should,” she repeats, still not able to break the connection between their eyes. 

The opening of the back door is what finally makes her look away from him.

“We’re leaving now, Lily is getting restless,” Jon tells her. 

Arya nods, following Jon inside the house. As in a haze she says her goodbyes and gets in the backseat of Sansa’s car. As she absentmindedly tries to calm down her niece, she can only think about Gendry, and how his lips were insistent and hands firm there on the porch.


	6. Northern lights

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They are walking on eggshells. It feels like you could hear a needle dropping. You could cut the tension with a knife. 
> 
> All the clichés of what suspense feels between two people are starting to make total sense now as Gendry tries to act normal when in the same space with Arya. 
> 
> It’s no use to trying to pretend. He hasn’t been able to stop thinking about her lips against his own since that night at the porch. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been snowing and raining here for the past week so I think we can all use some summery feels right now. So here's a small glimpse of northern summer for you!
> 
> (Ps. Fun fact: today the sun rises at 4:34 and sets at 22:01 so at least the light is here even if the warmth is not.)

They are walking on eggshells. It feels like you could hear a needle dropping. You could cut the tension with a knife. 

All the clichés of what suspense feels between two people are starting to make total sense now as Gendry tries to act normal when in the same space with Arya. 

It’s no use to trying to pretend. He hasn’t been able to stop thinking about her lips against his own since that night on the porch. 

There’s something about this woman, he thinks, something he can’t put into words, but it keeps him enthralled. No matter how much has happened between them, how many times they have hurt each other, no matter what he has promised himself. He is captivated by her being and there’s no escaping it. So when he meets her eye across the room all he can do is stare.

She doesn’t turn away.

* * *

  
  
  


Somehow, seeing Arya totally lose her calm after Jon’s accident, seeing her drop her facade of confidence entirely had been reassuring. Because he had seen her pull herself up too. She might say he had helped but he knows it’s not like that; it was mostly her own doing. 

Most importantly, she had done all that right there in front of him, not hiding from him. And afterwards, he knew she had stayed with her siblings and talked to her therapist, and really, she had done every responsible thing one could think of. 

Yes, he had seen how fragile she looked, but he had also seen how much strength there was in her and he had seen how much better she looked like when they met at the coffee shop. 

She looked relaxed. A bit tired, true, but relaxed, too. Like the fact that she had lost it in front of him and Jon was something she had been dreading and now that it had happened she didn't have to worry about it so much anymore. 

It seems there's no facade now and he can't deny he likes that. He likes this Arya. 

And he also feels drawn to her in a way he swore he would not. 

But it seems like there's absolutely nothing he can do to stop himself. 

The mornings in the coffee shop have offered no help for that particular problem. In fact, he has started to actually enjoy mornings, as he finds himself hoping to run into her when he steps out of his front door. He doesn’t every morning since they don’t actually plan those meetings, but it is enough to make him feel a hint of nervous excitement, wondering if she’ll be there. 

The couple of times they have gone running together have only proved that he enjoys Arya’s competitive spirit as much as he ever did. She keeps suggesting they race for the last stretch of their run and whoever loses must buy the other one coffee. Because of course, once they have gone running, they both go to their homes and meet up at the coffee shop afterwards, that is the set arrangement.

And then there had been that yoga class, the class Arya very much bullied him into joining, where some of the poses were way out of his comfort zone so he had been forced to opt for easier ones that left him with some time for his eyes to wander. 

They seemed to only wander towards Arya bending her body in a concentrated manner. There was certainly no oversized t–shirt on her then and Gendry was only a man for god's sake so how could he not have noticed? The way she moved her body from one pose to another in those tiny clothes was straight up bordering on pornographic, was it not?

He needed to tear his eyes away from her and remind himself it was a yoga class for crying out loud and he could not in any circumstances get himself worked up there. He did not want to be that creep.

He was, though, that creep whose mind kept going back to Arya doing the one pose called a one-legged wheel, locking her eyes with him as she bent her head upside down and lifted her leg up, looking at him on his matt behind her, unable to do anything but sit there as his muscles had totally refused that sort of movement. 

* * *

  
  
  


A charity gala at the Winterfell historical museum is really not Gendry’s cup of tea, but there was absolutely no way of refusing so that’s where he is on this Thursday evening in the middle of June, in his formal clothes, feeling awkward as ever.

Sansa has bought them all tickets, insisting it’s their duty to attend since there are some pieces relating to the Stark family on display at the museum – and she also insists Gendry must come with them so they can fill enough seats. Sam has been asked to join them as well and is a much more willing participant – he is a historian after all.

“We must represent the family,” Sansa tells them in a way that leaves no room for arguments.

Yes, the family, that’s the expression she uses and Gendry is reminded that indeed, the Starks are one of the oldest families in this part of the country and they have also been one of the most influential ones.

Gendry’s own father was one of those important people too, but he’s never had that much to do with his father’s side of the family (except for his half siblings and they have no more to do with the old and prestige part than he has), so the Starks are really his only connection to things like these. 

He still almost forgets sometimes that the place his friends simply refer to as home or nowadays ‘Sansa’s’ is in fact considered one of the historically most important sites around and that the house there is really not just another family home but more like a manor built in the same location their ancestors have lived for centuries. And that there are ruins of older buildings right there next to the house and there have been actual archeological diggings made practically on his friends’ back garden.

  
  


* * *

  
  


Arya had come to the coffee shop looking busy one morning this week when he was already standing on line. 

"Sorry I have to take the coffee to go, there's a million things to do for Thursday," she explained, already looking through her work emails on her phone. 

"It's okay," he assured her. 

They hadn't really talked since the birthday party but as Gendry hadn't totally worked out how he felt about it – or rather, he knew very well how much he had enjoyed it but had yet not completely come to terms with it – he was kind of happy not to spend too much time with Arya at the moment. 

But right there, anxiously waiting for her coffee, there was something very endearing about her. 

"Are you nervous?" he had to ask. 

She shook her head. 

"No,” she answered like a reflex, but then chuckled a bit as if remembering who she was talking to. 

“Or yeah, I guess I am a little bit. It's just that this is the first big event since I've been here." 

He gave her an encouraging smile. 

"It's going to be fine, I'm sure." 

She bit her lip, still looking unsure. 

"I hope so," se mumbled.

"You're still coming?" 

He nodded. 

"Yes. Took my suit to the dry cleaning to make Sansa happy." 

That made Arya smile a bit wider. 

"She’s bought me a new dress. A _flowery_ dress. She said I needed something fitting for the season," Arya told him, rolling her eyes as if the tone of her voice hadn't made it clear how she felt about the matter. 

He chuckled. Yes, flowers would be a change from the usual wardrobe of Arya's. 

Her coffee was ready so she took it and turned to leave. 

"Wish me luck." 

"You don't need it. See you on Thursday!" 

She smiled nervously and stepped out. He watched her sprinting to the direction of the museum. 

  
  


* * *

There’s no sign of nerves anymore, Gendry noticed that the first time he saw her tonight, right after he had walked up the stairs to the main hall of the museum filled with dining tables for the night. 

Arya is wearing the dress she mentioned and for a second he thinks that it really is not the typical Arya – but when she smiles it’s all her. The fabric is flowy and colourful and her heels are high and she is absolutely beautiful, there is no other word for it. The tattoos on her arms and back are visible and he can also spot the one on her right ankle, but with the dress, her whole look is a lot softer than it normally is. 

One of her co–workers walks up to her and Arya starts explaining something, checking for a piece of information on her phone, nodding, seemingly in total control of the situation. She looks like she knows exactly what she’s doing, the perfect image of professionalism and authority. And he likes that look on her very much.

Somehow, when Jon had said that Arya was returning to Winterfell, he had expected to see the same young girl he had once known. He had expected the hoodies, the clipped black nail polish, the ripped jeans. 

Those are not entirely gone, and Arya does by no means look old – but she does look like a proper adult now, especially with the work clothes he sees her in on the mornings they meet. It’s not skirt and jacket sets or anything like that, but it is blouses with skirts and jeans that definitely have no holes in them. It has been a bit surprising, actually, but now he realises that is something he likes these days.

Not that he didn’t always find Arya absolutely gorgeous.

The tiny, slender girl with big grey eyes and a mischievous smile had stolen his attention the first time he had met her soon after he had arrived in Winterfell. She had been a tomboy in her early teens, practicing her fencing in the back garden of their house and not afraid of challenging him when he made the mistake of thinking she wasn’t a force to be reckoned with. 

He had noticed the love she and Jon had for each other, the way Sansa’s jeers hurt her even when she tried to act as if she wasn’t affected by them and the warmth she treated her little brothers with. Most of all, he had noticed her fierce attitude.

That one never faded and as she grew older and they got to know each other better, becoming best friends it was a huge part of the alluring beauty he started to take note of more and more as time went by.

He had long ago given up trying to forget how beautiful she was the night they first gave into the temptation that had hung above them for months – or maybe years – and had sex in his tiny flat after a night out with their friends. The way her pale skin looked in the light of the lamp on his nightstand as she pulled off her shirt, straddling him and looking down at him with her eyes wide, as if she was challenging him once again. 

He had seen her naked many times before, but there was something in the way she pulled that shirt off that made it absolutely clear what her intention was.

If the mere thought of her hadn’t made him feel all that pain and sadness for the past seven years, he’s sure he could still make himself come just thinking about how she looked in that moment.

And now he can feel that sadness making room for a whole new set of emotions – and some old ones, resurrecting once again. The pain is still there, somewhere, but it’s pushed to the side by thoughts of a very different type.

Arya’s work seems to be done after the beginning of the evening. She’s not the one mainly responsible for the organising of this evening, so she has time to sit down for the dinner with the rest of their group and take Sam to look at an artefact they had discussed earlier and is now on display.

Gendry watches her talk animatedly, pointing to the information written about the object while Sam nods enthusiastically. He knows Sam comes to the museum regularly as a part of his job and that he and Arya have even worked together for a little bit during the time Arya has been in Winterfell. 

Those two people so very different from each other share a love for the history of the North and Sam had been beyond excited the second he heard Arya had gotten a job at the museum. Arya for her part has always had a soft spot for the shyest one of Jon’s friends, the always kind man who treats her like she was his little sister, too, but also seems to appreciate her professionally. Gendry has already heard those praises more than once and seen how pleased Arya is by them – which, of course, she would not admit if he pointed it out.  
  


After the main course they wander into the museum garden where dessert is served and a jazz band is playing soft music that is very appropriate for the event.

There’s been a heat wave and the evening is warm. It’s the perfect June evening, the midnight sun will be up almost all night long and that provides them with the magical feeling of northern summer. 

Gendry has been living in the north for more than fifteen years and it still amazes him. The extreme change of seasons, the shift from long, dark months to this endless lightness. Nightless nights that make the whole population feel a certain madness, the need to live every second of this short summer to the fullest.

The museum gardens are beautiful, showcasing all the plants specific to the north with various species only found in this area or further up north from Winterfell. 

Gendry’s eyes keep drifting to Arya, always lingering somewhere near him, her floral dress flowing slightly around her feet as she moves in her heels, nodding to other guests and conversing with people she knows, keeping close to their own group.

Jon’s voice interrupts his thoughts.

“Look! It’s northern lights!” 

Jon is glancing up at the sky where shapes of white move across the still light sky.

“Oh I’ve never seen them in the summer!” Sam says, excited.

“They’re not that common in the summer and it’s harder to see them. But this happens in the North – I mean like where Tormund’s from.”

“It’s weird on the bright sky without the colours”, Sansa notes.

The movement in the sky makes them all quiet, like it might go away if they don’t watch it carefully. It seems more delicate without the colours, Gendry thinks.

When he first moved to Winterfell as a teenager and saw the lights for the first time he had been thrilled. They were just as beautiful and magical as he had always imagined. 

After that he had seen them a few times, but it was still rare enough that it always felt like a special treat to witness.

“You know the sound they make?” Jon is asking.

Sam and Sansa shake their heads.

“Yes,” Gendry says – and at the same precise moment he can hear Arya say the same word.

He glances at her, watching the sky silently.

“They make a sound – it can be like a pop or a crack or a – “ 

“Whisper.”

Arya’s voice is quiet.

“Yes, like a whisper,” Jon continues.

“A lot of scientists didn’t even believe that the sounds were real. They thought it was just the crazy wild northerners imagining them or snow crackling or something, because no physicist had been able to record them. But then a couple of years ago this old professor of acoustics built his own equipment and was able to catch the sounds.”

As Jon tells the story Gendry looks over to Arya and finds her face already turned towards him. And he knows she’s thinking about the same thing he is, that the two of them did know about the whispers.

They had gone up north one March weekend to ski. One night, after eating in the restaurant close to their cabin they walked the dimly lit path when suddenly they saw the colourful lights filling the sky. They stopped to watch them, the light dancing in the sky, filling it completely – Gendry had never seen the lights quite like that. 

The first whisper caught them off guard and made them jump a bit.

“Oh it’s the sound!” Arya was excited. “I’ve never heard it before.”

It was like a woman’s voice whispering, the faint sound feeling like it came out of nowhere.

He held her hand, sensing the weird, almost eerie ambiance of the display in the dark night, surrounded by only snow, in the middle of nowhere.

He remembers feeling so incredibly happy he was there with Arya of all the people, the most important person in his life – the one he wanted to share every one of these experiences.

And here she is again, giving him a small smile before she raises her gaze back up towards the sky again. It was dark then and just the two of them where now they are in the middle of a crowd on a summer’s night and the sky they look at is bright.

It’s not the same, not even close – but they are still both there looking at the same show of dancing lights.

  
  


It’s close to midnight when the gala comes to an end.

Sansa yawns when she puts on her jacket. 

"If it's okay I think I might take you up on that offer of the spot on the couch. I don't feel like waking up Lily and dragging her home and putting her back to sleep there. We can just leave first thing in the morning." 

“I’m pretty sure Gilly already made a bed for you,” Sam assures her.

Arya hugs her sister and Jon comes to give her a hug, too.

“Can I bum a ride with you?” Jon asks Sam and Sansa, but then turns back to Arya, looking at her concerned.

“Or do you want to share a cab Arya?”

“I’m good, I can walk,” Arya promises with a smile.

“I’ll come with you,” Gendry says.

Jon seems satisfied with this. He gives Arya another quick hug, whispering some affectionate words in her ear and squeezing her shoulder, with a proud look.

Gendry can see Arya trying to act like she isn’t affected but she can’t fight back the smile that Jon always manages to lure out of her.

  
  


* * *

  
  


It’s two weeks to midsummer so it's light outside despite the late hour as they make their way through the quiet streets.

“I’m glad it’s over,” Arya admits.

“You did well,” he tells her and when she fixes him with a questioning look, he shrugs.

“Well, I don’t exactly know everything you did but seemed like you did well. You didn’t ruin anything, did you?”

She smiles.

“No, I didn’t.”

“Told you so.”

They stop to the corner where she needs to turn to get to her flat, only a few metres from his door. 

His eyes wander down her body to the heels in her feet. He hears her low chuckle and realises she must have caught him looking. 

Head still bent down he brings his gaze up at her. He should be more embarrassed but he just can’t bring himself to it. He’s past that, because there is just no way he could be able to not be enthralled by the way she looks tonight.

The way she is watching him, smiling and biting her lip, he can’t even try to tell himself she doesn’t notice it or that she doesn’t like it.

He knows he shouldn't. He really, really knows he shouldn't. But he can’t stop himself, there’s simply no way of stopping this.

So he steps closer to her, leans down and presses his lips to hers and when she sighs into the kiss and wraps her hands around his neck, keeping herself firmly pressed against him, he doesn’t think about what he should do or what he shouldn’t, he only thinks of what he wants.

And he acts on that, pulls her inside his building, into the elevator, pushes her against the wall there and kisses her all the way up to his floor and only lets go enough to open his door before he has her in his arms again.

His lips slide to her neck as he kicks his shoes off and drops his jacket to the chair in the hallway and he knows she has stepped out of her heels as she is suddenly about four inches lower than she was earlier. But then she is raising herself to the tips of her toes, her hands around his neck as she holds him tightly to her.

He walks them towards his bedroom and they stumble on a chair. His feet almost get caught into something laying on the floor – her jacket, he notes absentmindedly realising he had just helped her shake it off and not really registered it. He keeps stumbling until her legs hit the edge of his bed and he helps lowering her there.

She lets him take the lead, he can feel it. Their relationship is and has always been about trusting the other one and both taking turns in being the one in charge, but this time it’s more obvious than it usually is. 

Arya is letting him decide where this goes and giving him the option of stopping. But at the same time she is following him eagerly, and how could he ever stop when she is touching him, kissing him. 

How could he stop when she’s been constantly filling his mind since that kiss, since he’s been under her spell this entire night.

He lies down next to her, facing her lying on his side, his hand cradling her head, sliding down to her neck and back slowly until it settles on her back and he pulls her closer.

Getting his hint she straddles him and for a second there she looks at him with her lip between her teeth and there’s a hint of uncertainty in her, that insecurity she so rarely lets show, and once again it’s the fact that she is nervous that makes him act. 

He sits up, pushing her dress up her thighs and after she pulls on the zipper on her side he helps her lift it over her head, followed by her bra. And then she’s there, all bare skin, on top of him. 

The moment is not like the one that’s been haunting his memories and there is no trace of challenge in Arya’s eyes. It’s more as if she’s asking for his permission and that asking makes him want to grant it.

So he takes off his own shirt, keeping his eyes locked with hers and pulls her closer to him, one hand behind her neck, the other on the small of her back and kisses her.

This is Arya, Arya, Arya. The thought keeps repeating in his mind like a mantra he can’t shake off. She is so familiar and at the same time completely new as she moves in his arms.

She feels delicate, moving a little bit higher on her knees, only in her underwear in his lap, so much pale skin touching him he can’t make up his mind on where to settle his hands. She’s arching her back, her abdomen coming into contact with his as her head bends a little back and he holds one breast in the palm of his hand, rubbing it. She’s breathing hard, pushing out air with a low moan that vibrates through her as she moves against him and then a little bit further away to give her hands some room to move to the waistband of his trousers.

He pushes her back on the bed to get up, take off his own pants and socks and then to bend over her to slide her underwear down her legs.

He can feel Arya’s breath hitching as he kisses up her leg and then presses a soft, open mouthed kiss between her thighs and he is only able to stop himself from staying there because the need to be inside her is all he can think of.

He leans over her, holding himself on one arm as the other slides between them, fingers stroking her and she raises her head enough to catch his lips with her own, sucking them. The way her lips move against his and how her fingers grab his hair keeping his face close to hers feels just as desperate as how he knows his own movements are. They are all over each other but the need to be closer is evident in every move they make.

Reluctantly he tears himself off her enough to run to his bathroom to get the box of condoms that has been sitting in the cabinet there for a while now. When he closes the door he catches a glimpse of his face in the mirror, flushed and breathless. 

For a second he thinks about what he’s about to do – that this is the last chance to stop it, wondering how wise it is – but then the thought of Arya waiting for him on his bed returns to his mind and he turns away from the mirror.

When he moves to hover on top of her again, settling himself between her legs – finally, it feels – she seems to have enough of waiting and following his lead as she closes her fingers around his shaft and rubs him against her a few times.

As he slides in her warmth she curses under her breath. He starts moving slowly and can feel her clenching around him. 

"I thought about this every time you stared at me tonight," she mutters in a low, strained voice. 

It almost does him in right there, that breathy voice admitting that to her, too, the whole night has been a long foreplay leading to this moment. It was one thing to have her not turn her eyes away from him all night but it's another thing completely to have her admit she was thinking the same thing he was the entire time. 

He moves his hand to her hip, holding her tight against him, moving her in time of his thrusts. He's been so wound up for so long it doesn't take much time before he feels himself nearing his peak and he moves his hand between them, his two fingers finding her clit and starting to rub her, making her moan. 

And when he feels her clench around him harder than before, her fingers tightening on his neck for a second before releasing their hold, he lets go, too, letting himself drown in the feeling. 

  
  


Much later, when Arya has fallen asleep lying close to him, curled up on her side facing away from him but so close it’s still intimate, Gendry stares at the ceiling, images from earlier flashing through his mind and mingling with older memories. The want in him has calmed down and the feeling it suppressed is rising to the surface.

It’s a whole bundle of regret, dread and sadness.

They have been here before and it did not end well for him. So why should it be different now? 


	7. The aftermath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “About… This – ” Arya starts waving her hand between them, sure that he gets her meaning without more words. He obviously does as he stops her.
> 
> “Not the best idea we’ve ever had.”
> 
> His answer dissipates whatever thought she had of continuing that sentence. Gendry looks angry, she realises. But it also seems getting those words out has broken some sort of resolve in him as he keeps talking.
> 
> “We shouldn’t have done it, it was stupid.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aand here comes the angst as I'm sure anyone reading this could have guessed.
> 
> And as always: thanks to everyone for reading and commenting. It's always a bit unnerving to post a chapter but all the lovely comments make it not feel so bad.

She's wearing Gendry's shirt. She had picked it up from the floor as she walked back from the bathroom and threw it on before getting back under the blanket next to him. 

It had, of course, ended up back on the floor when it had appeared impossible for either of them to stop their hands and lips from wandering and soon enough Gendry's fingers were first under the shirt and then helping her lift it over her head. And then his lips were moving from her neck to her chest, over her breasts, on her stomach, along her hip bone and then she was lost in the sweet pleasure again. 

But she had put the shirt back on at some point and actually fell asleep so that is how she finds herself waking up, in Gendry's bed, wearing his t-shirt. 

Her mind is a little groggy as she runs her hand through her tousled hair and tries to come up with a good way to deal with the situation that is waking up with Gendry the morning after the party at the museum. The morning after their night spent together.

She can't even tell him she had been drunk because he knew she hadn't been. And besides, it would probably not help this situation when they have shared with each other the status of their relationship to alcohol. She has used that particular lie successfully more than once in her a situation similar to this one but no, it will not be an option now. 

  
  


When she dares to walk to the kitchen Gendry is making coffee. He doesn’t turn around to look at her and that really should tell her enough.

“Morning,” Arya says. 

She watches as he closes the tap and dries his hands. She can hear him taking a deep breath as he finally turns to face her. The look on his face makes his feelings woefully clear and her heart sinks.

He's having regrets, it’s obvious.

“Hi.” 

He doesn’t say anything else, just stands there, reserved

She looks around the kitchen, noticing the pot of coffee.

“Is it okay if I take just a cup of that and then I guess I should be going?” she asks and she hasn’t even got all the words out before she starts berating herself because honestly, what is this? 

Why is she almost apologising to him? Why is she acting like she needs to flee as fast as she can – like she has done something wrong?

A sideways glance towards Gendry is enough to tell her why; it’s his demeanor. It’s not just that he’s regretting this whole ordeal, it’s how defeated he looks.

“Yeah, go ahead,” Gendry gestures to the coffee machine and reaches to the shelf to grab another mug, placing it to the table next to the machine. 

He steps away, going to stand on the other side of the small kitchen.

“About… This – ” she starts waving her hand between them, sure that he gets her meaning without more words. He obviously does as he stops her.

“Not the best idea we’ve ever had.”

His answer dissipates whatever thought she had of continuing that sentence. Gendry looks angry, she realises. But it also seems getting those words out has broken some sort of resolve in him as he keeps talking.

“We shouldn’t have done it, it was stupid.”

“It’s okay,” she tries, but he clearly doesn’t think so.

“No, it’s fucking not okay. I do not want to get into any of that again,” he says, almost yelling.

“You just moved here and you have panic attacks or whatever those are and we don’t even know each other anymore.”

“What?” she breathes out, baffled of how angry Gendry is.

“I know everyone says it’s just like it was now that you’re back but you can’t just waltz back here and expect us to continue just like we were.”

Arya wants to scream at him that he’s being unfair, that she _hasn’t_ expected anything – but it doesn’t seem like Gendry wants to hear what she has to say.

“It was just sex,” she says, purposefully, willing Gendry to calm down. 

But again, that’s somehow the wrong thing to say, because Gendry is throwing his hands in the air.

“Yeah that makes it all alright then,” he says, sarcasm evident in his voice.

She huffs. It’s taking all her effort not to scream at him. But she wants to put some sense into him and she knows yelling is not the way to do that.

“Can you just stop it! Just… I’m sorry, I know it wasn’t the smartest decision ever for us to sleep together right now but we did it and that’s that. We’re adults, I’m sure we can handle it.”

She tries stepping closer to him, to grab his arm in an calming effort, but he steps back.

“Can you handle it?” Gendry asks, challenging, skeptical.

“I have no idea what you can handle and what you can’t and I really can’t be responsible if you can’t.”

“What? If this is about Jon's accident then –" 

"No it's not about that, this is different," he cuts her off. 

Arya is quickly losing her patience – what is going on here? _Why_ is he suddenly so angry?

“Can you just stop acting like you’ll lose everything that’s good in the world if I as much as come closer than a couple of metres from you?” she snaps. 

And then, voice breaking a bit.

“Can you just stop acting like I’m the worst person in the world?”

But Gendry just throws his hands in the air again.

“Arya you just moved back here. And yes you have a job but you’re still… I don’t even know what you are and how you are and when you are okay or not or if you’re going to just run away again.”

She can feel the tears pricking her eyes already. 

“Okay, so you think I’m a mess? Fine,” she says forcefully. 

“I was always a mess. But I used to be your mess,” she whispers and her throat feels so tight it’s hard to speak at all.

“Well I don’t want any messes anymore,” Gendry says. His voice is quiet but it’s enough. It’s the same effect as it would have had if it had been screamed from the rooftops. 

Arya swallows back the sob that’s about to escape. She turns around without a word because really, is there anything to say at this point? Not at least if she doesn’t want to cry in front of the person who is clearly trying to insult her as best as he can.

She makes sure she has all her clothes and she puts on the high heels from the night before. She checks she has her phone and takes her purse.

She stops to stand at the doorway to the kitchen. Gendry is still standing there with his coffee cup.

“I’m sorry Gendry. I think you’re being harsh and unreasonable but I’m sorry.”

With that she leaves.

The morning is bright and as beautiful as a June morning possibly can be. It’s a perfect morning, she thinks as she walks the short distance to her apartment. She’ll have to go to work soon. She’ll have a short day today, but she needs to go and sort out some things from the gala. 

She’s tired, and not just because of the lack of sleep, so tired she would like to go home and sleep until Monday. But she won’t. She’ll go to work and after that she’ll go to Sansa’s because she did promise to go. 

Gendry might think she’s a mess and maybe he’s right, but she’ll keep all her promises.

  
  


* * *

Her mind keeps coming back to it throughout the day. What was it that had Gendry changing his course so completely between the time she fell asleep last night and woke up this morning? 

They had been doing so good. Ever since Jon’s accident, they had met several times and it had felt effortless. She had been a bit worried after that kiss at Sam and Gilly’s place, but if there was some hint of awkwardness after that, it wasn’t too bad and they had gotten over it – or more like it had turned into excitement. 

And last night – there honestly is no denying what last night was about. He was the one who had been looking at her all night long and while she knew for sure it had everything to do with want, she had been having a feeling there was something else in his eyes, too – friendship, and if she allows herself to be hopeful, she might say affection. 

She’d say want was the driving force, but she had been pretty sure there was more to all of it.

So why had Gendry been so angry this morning? She couldn’t quite figure it out, but she knew it had felt like a bucket of cold water thrown on her.

Especially considering how polite and nice he has been to her – like he seemed to be to everyone nowadays, which certainly was a change from the grumpy teenager he once was. But Gendry had obviously learned how to hold his tongue and act polite. 

It had seemed like they were on the same page, that they were cautiously moving closer to each other. And Arya can willingly admit that it might have been a mistake to take the step they did last night, that it might have been better not to sleep together when everything was still just hanging in the air and they weren’t clear about where they stood. 

But they had both wanted it and it had been so perfect, there’s no other word for it. After that whole evening of lingering glances and that feeling of electricity running through her and radiating from him when they had so much as stood side by side, she had not been surprised when it didn’t take much for her to fall over the edge when he finally, finally moved on his bed, over her, in her.

  
  


* * *

  
  
  
  


It’s been seven years since they were actually together and it’s not like she has been pining after him the entire time. She has been focused on herself for most of the time, but she has also been with other people. There was never anything extremely serious, but there were a couple people she might have called partners and some more casual affairs in the years she spent away.

Still, the memory of Gendry always stayed in her mind and had a special place there. 

Being with Gendry had been a dream and a safe haven. He was the force that lifted her up, he gave her the boost to be confident and fearless. Together the two of them were more than it felt they could ever be without each other.

They were the ones who invented being young and and invincible. And being in love, too. It took them a long time to acknowledge that out loud, but they acted on it a long time before that. 

The love they used to share was a first love, exciting and overwhelming and so powerful it felt like there could be nothing that could ever shatter it. And with that love Arya felt powerful too.

It was endless, light summer nights driving around aimlessly in his car, stopping on the side of a lake or on a turning site in the end of a forest road to skip rocks, pick flowers, go skinny dipping or make out on the hood of the car. 

It was drunken kisses in the deserted alleys after nights out with their friends. It was laying in bed till late in the afternoon just talking nonsense and laughing at stupid jokes, taking little naps and only getting up when they were too hungry to ignore it any longer. It was jumping to the water from the highest cliff and daring one another to lie down in the middle of the road for ten seconds.

But she does also remember the way it all ended, the way the feeling of them against the rest of the world dissipated and how suddenly they didn’t seem to want the same things anymore.

It had been evident in many occasions. 

Some of those she remembers with a sad clarity. They linger in her mind as depressing reminders of how badly she treated him, how hurt he had been – how he had all but begged her to change the course of events and turn back to him.

Like that one time she went to take him out on a hot night in August. The summer was coming to an end so it was already dark outside but the warmth still lingered there.

She knew he didn’t actually want to go, there wasn’t really anything waiting for him. It was only her friends hanging in that warehouse turned some sort of cultural centre – a place where they hosted band nights for new artists and small indie bands coming to Winterfell. It was a place some of Arya’s new friends hang out a lot.

But she made him come with her anyway – she wasn’t really sure why, they hadn’t hang out much lately and that was more her doing than his. But that night she for some reason wanted him to come with her. Maybe it was some sort of desperate wish for them to be like they had been, an attempt to enjoy one night of reckless fun together. She should have known that was not an option anymore, that the word fun had different meanings for the two of them nowadays.

He had tried to enjoy it. He always tried, she knows that and she knew it then, too, although it was hard to admit that. Because admitting that he tried meant admitting that she didn’t. He tried to be interested, but it wasn’t his thing and to be fair she did nothing to help him. So after barely an hour there he told her he wanted to leave – and she told him she didn’t. 

There was no point in discussing it, they both knew how it was going to play out, so he just nodded.

“We’ll talk later,” he said, not bothering to make sure if she even heard him in the cacophony in front of the venue.

“See you, Arya.”

She watched him go, his back moving further and further away. She knew he wanted her to yell after him, to ask him to stay with her and apologise for how she had acted. She couldn’t bring herself to do it.

Afterwards – much later, when she had already left Winterfell – she had wondered what would have happened if she would have yelled after him. If it had all been different. Maybe he would have said something, maybe he would have understood how lost she was.

She had felt like that was the moment she really let go, the moment when it became clear. They had been so at odds with each other for some time before that it was easy to see what was coming, but she had been reluctant to let go of him.

But that night, when she couldn’t bring herself to call after him, she surrendered to the force pulling them away from each other, the same undercurrent that was pushing her towards the whirlwind of oblivion that she had seeked since Rickon’s death.

She had made him leave her and then she had run away herself with no further goodbyes, hoping he’d forget. She had forced him to let go but had learned she was unable to do that herself.

* * *

  
  
  


Arya drags herself to Sansa’s after work, glad of the distraction her niece and the domestic life can bring. She’s feeling a little too tired for the energy of a toddler but it is better than laying on her own couch with nothing to think about other than Gendry and the many ways the two of them have managed to hurt each other through the years.

“Are you okay?” Sansa asks her as they clean the kitchen after their dinner. 

Of course, Arya has seen the glances Sansa has given her throughout the evening and the raised eyebrows and head tilts, silently asking the same question.

“I’m fine,” Arya mumbles.

“You sure? You look tired.”

There really is no sense in lying to Sansa. She will always see through her even when no one else will. (There’s a small voice in her head whispering that Gendry is pretty good at seeing through her too.)

“I spent the night at Gendry’s,” she says and sees Sansa’s eyes widening.

“And you waited this long to tell me!”

She has to smile at her sister. It’s been so long since the two of them have had something like this to talk about. Or come to think of it, Arya’s not sure if they ever really had these girl talks when they were younger. For a long time they didn’t get along well enough to gossip about relationships or sex or anything for that matter.

“It’s really not that exciting.”

Sansa raises her eyebrows.

“It was _bad_?” she asks surprised but also with a lightness and curiosity that makes Arya sure she’s referring to the part that was definitely not bad.

“Oh, not like that.”

“Well like what then?” Sansa questions.

It’s hard to even start explaining all of it, but at the same time it feels relieving to have someone to talk to.

“He said it was a mistake this morning.”

“What?” Sansa exclaims, rather loudly, getting the attention of her daughter who decides her mother and aunt have had enough time to themselves and graps on to Arya’s leg, demanding her to come see the toys spread out on the living room floor. Arya follows the girl but she knows her sister is not done with the conversation.

When Lily has gone to bed, Arya walks back downstairs to find Sansa on the couch, two cups of tea in front of her. She shifts on the couch, gesturing for Arya to join her.

“Tea and sympathy?” Arya asks, sitting down.

“Exactly,” Sansa nods.

“Now tell me everything about it,” Sansa demands like the big sister she is. 

Arya drops down next to her and lets Sansa drape the quilt she has on her own legs over Arya’s too, taking one of the cups of tea. She takes a sip and starts explaining.

Half an hour later, Arya has her head resting against the back of the couch and Sansa combs her fingers through the brown hairs splattered there.

“He said he doesn’t want a mess like me.”

“But you’re not a mess, not at all,” Sansa says softly. 

“You were and you did screw up but you’re not screwing anything up right now. You’re working and having a career and you’re helping me more than anyone… You’ve practically become another parent for my kid.”

Sansa’s words almost make her cry, she sounds so sincere and the fact that her own sister sees her like that fills her with such warmth it’s hard to handle.

“I don’t know why he would call you a mess but if that’s how he sees you then it’s his loss,” Sansa is saying and she can’t stop the tight feeling in her chest squeezing her even more.

No, it my loss, too, she thinks. It will always be my loss, too.

She leans closer to Sansa and feels the moisture gathering in her eyes. 

It’s the past coming to claim it’s debt, she thinks. She’s paying for her old mistakes now. 

She might have tried to put it all behind her but that is not how life works and Arya knows that very well. It doesn’t matter how many years she was away if all Gendry sees when he looks at her is the same girl who always messed up everything.

Arya can’t say she was expecting this turn of events – the getting closer part, that is – when she moved back. She knew Gendry would be there and that they would meet, but she wasn't expecting it to necessarily being as constant as it has.

She had hopes that they could form some sort of friendship, but the level of bonding that has already been between them has been a surprise. 

It’s scary, of course it is, and not because it’s Gendry and they have all that history but also because of her own issues. She is still getting used to being back in Winterfell and in her new job and this whole thing that is this adult life still feels pretty new to her.

But she had started to hope that Gendry might be there while she got used to it all and learned how to deal with this new phase of life. All that hope seems lost now.

  
  
  


* * *

Saturday morning at the Stark house starts with Lily waking everyone up before seven o’clock. Arya aims for normalcy with a run in the paths close to the house, the ones she knows by heart having wandered on them her whole childhood and youth. Running on the uneven paths as fast as possible is enough of a challenge to keep everything else off her mind for a moment, but it all comes back when she returns to the house.

She’s still feeling the weight of the argument with Gendry, the whole situation they are in. It’s the dark cloud hanging over her shoulders, the cape of lead hanging from her shoulders, pressing her down.

The morning is sunny but there’s a chill in the air.

She stands on the edge of the patio, watching Lily push her little cart laid with toys across the garden. She hears Sansa opening the back door and moving to stand next to her.

Sansa wraps her arm around her, leaning her head against Arya’s.

“Gendry thinks I’m screwing up,” Arya says, quietly. The statement is a bit out of the blue but she’s sure Sansa already knew what she was thinking.

“Gendry isn’t right all the time,” Sansa huffs, clearly frustrated. 

“Just because he’s scared he’ll get hurt doesn’t mean he’s right.”

Arya is glad Sansa is so firmly on her side, but it does little to lessen the awful feeling that seems to have settled upon her for good.

“Look. I know you two hurt each other. I know _you_ hurt him pretty bad – ” Arya purses her eyes closed, she does not need another lecture on this “– but –” Sansa keeps saying, ignoring her shake of head “– that was a long time ago and you’ve both grown up a lot after that. You messing things up before does not mean you’ll do it again.”

Arya opens her eyes, looking at her sister, searching for confirmation on that – because right now she feels like she really needs Sansa saying it. She had felt like she was doing alright but Gendry’s words have left her doubting.

As always, Sansa is good at reading her.

“I don’t think Gendry really thinks you are a screw up. I think he sees how much you’ve changed and he’s just scared to admit it. Because if he admits you’ve got your life together then he really has no excuses.”

Excuses for what, she wants to ask, but Sansa continues.

“Or he might just be afraid of falling in love again. Because if you fall in love, you risk getting hurt, no matter who it’s with and whether you have a history together or not.”

Sansa’s words sound convincing, but they don’t bring much relief. There are too many if’s and but’s and too many valid reasons to be scared. 

“It’s all so complicated and I probably should just back off and give him space and move on, but I can’t,” she sighs.

“I want him, Sansa. I know it’s not simple and I know we can be happy without a relationship and I know I have so many other good things in my life and all that. I’m not some idiot who after everything that’s happened thinks it’s some man who’s just going to make me whole or some other stupid shit like that. But I want him, I just do and I can’t get over it.”

Sansa pulls her closer, squeezing her shoulder. 

“I know. And it does not make you an idiot if you want love.”

Sansa steps down from the patio to the grass and goes to her daughter to usher her inside. 

“Come on,” Sansa says as they get in the house. 

“Let’s call Bran and ask if he has finally decided when he’s getting here for Midsummer.”

“And we have to make plans for the party. You can give me your opinion on the menu I’ve planned.”

Arya groans.

“I forgot all about Midsummer’s eve,” she grumbles.

“Do we have to invite Gendry? I really don’t want to face him.”

Sansa gives her a compassionate look.

“I already spoke to him about it at the gala and Jon was there too, so if you don’t want me to uninvite him and explain it all to Jon then I think we might be stuck with him.”

Arya turns at her sister with an exaggerated pout, but Sansa just smiles at that.

“Tell Bran and he’ll help you hide from Gendry. Bran’s good at that kind of stuff.”


	8. Midsummer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When they get back to the Stark house, Gendry wanders to the back garden, walks aimlessly there before sitting in the shadows of the patio, sipping his second beer of the night, wallowing in his memories and once again reproaching himself for getting into a situation like this.
> 
> Being with Arya had been being the king and the ruler, if only of the little universe only the two of them shared – but that was enough, because who even cared about the rest of the world when it was the two of them together?
> 
> Being with Arya had been the best kind of craziness, the best kind of recklessness he has known in all his life. He should have known being that reckless would get them both hurt eventually.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know there's there tag for happy ending but the ending is not here yet so... 
> 
> Once again a huge thank you for everyone who has commented!

At five o’clock on Midsummer’s Eve Gendry finally arrives at the Stark house. He knows he should have been there earlier – Jon had talked about two in the afternoon, but he just couldn’t make himself get there.

It still feels like he shouldn't have come at all. He should have made up some excuse for why he couldn't have.

But Jon had been insistent, saying they had always spent Midsummer together, that Gendry was part of the regular crew. And then he had asked if it was about Arya, if Gendry was still angry at her for that same old stuff and telling him he should just get over it already, because, as Jon said it ”you guys have been getting along so great”. 

And if Arya had not told Jon about what had happened after the gala, and if Jon had not picked it up himself that somehow they just hadn’t happened to run into each other during the last two weeks – not in gym, not at the pub, not anywhere – then Gendry did not want to be the one to explain it all to him. 

Jon had always been cool about their relationship – all parts of it – but he did not want to explain to Jon, Arya’s number one fan and big brother, how he had not been able to keep his hands off her but had severely regretted it the morning after and had been avoiding her since. 

Besides, they _do_ always spend Midsummer together – the same way they spend most holidays people usually spend with their families. Because the Stark siblings and this group of friends they share are the closest thing to a family Gendry has had since his mother died. They have grown up together and they have seen each other through some difficult times and Gendry feels as close to them as he feels with his half siblings – who are important to him but live so far away that they do not share their lives day to day. 

Jon’s at the front of the house picking something up from his car when Gendry pulls in the driveway. They walk through the house so Gendry can leave the drinks he has brought in the kitchen – because as the custom is, he had to bring something even though he knows Sansa has undoubtedly made sure they have more than enough of everything.

They go out to the back garden, stopping to stand on the edge of the patio. Gendry waves his hand to Sansa and the tall woman helping her set the table at the other side of the patio. Brienne comes over to give Gendry a formal handshake accompanied with a small smile. 

"Hello Gendry, how have you been?" Brienne greets in that slightly stiff way of hers and Gendry mumbles some meaningless answer. 

It’s all very familiar. Brienne has been a permanent fixture in the Stark family gatherings for fifteen years so it’s no surprise she's there. Nor is it a surprise that she is still formally polite and likes to help out Sansa as much as possible. She might be Lily’s godmother but Gendry has always thought she acts like she is Sansa’s, too.

Gendry can spot Arya sitting on a towel near a wading pool Lily is sitting in, laughing as the kid splashes water on her and splashing some on Bran who is sitting next to her.

Arya is wearing shorts and a bikini top, probably because the kid would get her shirt wet anyway, and Gendry curses himself for letting his eyes linger on all that skin. He really should have more control over himself after everything. It was, after all, that same physical attraction that got him in this trouble in the first place.

“Arya, would you come help me with the food!” Sansa calls to her sister. 

She is suddenly standing closer to Gendry and he scolds himself internally for getting so caught up looking at Arya again that he hasn’t even noticed Sansa coming to stand right next to him.

He turns away from the little pool, letting his gaze wander around the garden attempting to look at ease and hide the fact that he had been staring at Arya. 

From the corner of his eyes he can still see Arya getting up and swiping some grass off her shorts, brushing a hand against Bran’s shoulder. As soon as she leaves, Brienne crouches down on the other side of Bran, taking her turn playing with the kid.

Arya walks past Gendry and inside the house, gives him a quick look and a small, tight lipped smile – polite but nothing more, a quiet hello.

It feels worse than it should.

  
  
Gendry feels grateful all these people know him and are not perplexed when he chooses to go sit by himself on a garden chair near the porch, a few metres away from everyone else, not engaging in any of the conversations.

But after a while, Bran wheels closer to him and he is glad of that. They haven’t ever been particularly close but he has always liked Bran so catching up with the man is a welcome distraction from his brooding.

“How are you?” Bran asks. 

He doesn’t ask what’s new in Gendry’s life or what’s going on and Gendry gets the feeling Bran already knows about him and Arya. He figures that was to be expected because Arya did always say there were some things she felt easier talking with Bran about than Jon. 

It was something about Bran being her younger brother, so close to her own age and also very much a logical thinker to the point where he sometimes appeared to have no emotions – which, of course was not true because Gendry knows Bran cares deeply for his siblings and friends. But his calm and logical approach to things does make him a nice person to converse with. He doesn’t judge or get agitated too easily where Jon does react with feelings quite often. 

And Gendry guesses Arya might think like he does and feel like Jon is too close to him and that’s why she would feel weird talking about them to Jon.

Because he is fairly certain Bran already knows what’s going on – as much as he or Arya do – he doesn’t bother pretending.

“A bit tired,” he says.

Bran looks at with him with his typical pensive expression. 

"Glad you still made it, it's good to see you again," Bran says kindly. 

Again Gendry has the feeling there's more meaning to his words. 

"It’s a tradition," he only says. 

"Yes it is," Bran agrees. 

"And it's good to have everyone here again after a long while," he continues and this time Gendry is sure he is talking about Arya. 

He doesn’t know what to say and when he looks down at Bran again his gaze feels piercing, like he could see through his brain. 

“It’s good to see everyone is doing so well,” Bran says.

Gendry lets out a sigh. For all they keep saying how sneaky Bran can be, he could not make it more clear what he is implying and it makes Gendry a bit uncomfortable.

Yet Bran saying Arya is doing well feels different than when Jon said it, he thinks as he watches Bran wheel himself to the patio. 

Jon has always seen Arya as close to perfection as anyone can be and somehow he has managed to make even her flaws sound like they are traits others should be jealous of. 

Bran has less delusions concerning his sister and isn’t protective over her the same way Jon is. He can acknowledge Arya’s shortcomings and Gendry knows he will always call her out on them. Bran doesn’t treat Arya with kid gloves.

So if Bran says Arya is doing well, is it the truth then? 

“I was your mess,” that’s what Arya had said. And that is what she had seemed like at that moment, the beautiful mess she always was, not really knowing what she was doing half the time but going for it anyways. She had stood in his kitchen, in his t-shirt, remnants of last nights mascara around her eyes and hair tangled. Looking like a tired mess but so incredibly beautiful.

Gendry had loved that about her – all that chaotic energy wildly coursing through her. But with the same conviction he used to love it, he is absolutely certain that is not what he wants or needs now. The sense of danger is not alluring to him anymore. He is more drawn to safety now. To being adult, making wise decisions, planning his life and being responsible.

Those are not words he is used to describing Arya with.

"It was just sex" she said, too, and the thing is, no matter how much he wants to tell himself he's mad because they slept together, he's also angry because it seems like it didn’t mean much to Arya. 

And on top of it all, he knows – oh, he really, really _knows_ – that he _had_ been too harsh, he had been unreasonable, unfair. It had been his decision as much as Arya’s, he had wanted it just as much if not more than her. If he couldn’t handle sleeping with Arya, then he shouldn't have done it and it wasn’t anyone else's fault he did. Not even Arya’s.

But how could he have explained all that to her? That all the history between them kept playing on repeat in his mind, and that _he_ was in no way capable of handling it in that moment. He had panicked and acted way worse than he should have, saying things he wishes he hadn't, things he didn't really mean. 

  
  


* * *

  
  
  


He and Arya have had so many different relationships. They were friends for a long time before they were anything else, best friends even. Then, for almost two years, they were in this weird phase where they weren't officially together but they weren't just friends either. 

It was like some extended courting period or a try out period or friends with benefits but also with feelings type of thing. A situation that slowly unraveled from soft brushes of fingers and casual hugs to holding hands and sleeping in the same bed to holding each other while they slept and sharing an occasional kiss and from there to heated making out. 

And then they were having sex and spending all their time together and everyone already assumed they were together so after a while they admitted that was actually what they were doing. 

The memory of that exact moment was one of those that were simultaneously his favorites but also those that hurt the most.

"Gendry," she had whispered as he slowly moved the tips of his fingers on the skin of her back. They were laying on her bed, both of them naked and the room was dimly lit by the summer night's light pouring through the curtains. 

He hummed as a response to let her know he was listening and didn't stop moving his hand. 

"Should we talk about what Theon said?" she asked. 

Gendry's hand stilled. He knew what she was referring to: Theon had called him Arya's boyfriend that morning, and just as always, Arya had told him to shut up. That's what she did, every single time, but the way she said it was not even really annoyed anymore. It was more like a habit. He had noticed there had been even less force in those words of hers since they had started having sex a few months ago. 

"Do you want to talk about it?" he countered. 

This thing had been going on between them for so long he wasn't expecting it to be addressed any time soon. He was used to it, their relationship being undefined. He was fine with it, too, simply because everything with Arya felt so good and he knew he wasn't alone with his feelings. 

“I wouldn’t mind,” Arya answered, her voice sounding lazy.

“The talking?”

“Or if you were.”

He shifted, moving so that he could look her in the eyes. She was looking at him with a hint of uncertainty and a question, waiting for his response. And then they were both smiling.

“Okay,” was all he said. 

And just like that it was settled, as simple as all the other changes in their relationship had been. He was her boyfriend and she was his girlfriend and they were still best friends and it was all perfect.

But then there are the memories that hold no happiness to them, the ones that are still enough to make him think getting too close to Arya is not a good decision.

He had been so reluctant to believe their relationship could ever come to an end that when things started to go sour he had a hard time believing it to be true. Because, surely, it could not be like that. 

And hanging on to false hope made it even worse. It gave them time to hurt each other.

The stupidest thing was that even when she was already slipping away, he kept on trying, he kept on hoping there was some way of salvaging the situation and he kept on dreaming of a future with Arya. Even when the fighting had started – if you could really call it fighting when it was mostly just Gendry trying to talk or yell or do anything to get a reaction from Arya and Arya avoiding him a much as she could. 

The last night he slept in Arya’s bed was the night before their fight – which he later started thinking about as their break–up, even if that – like so many things in their relationship before that – was never actually discussed. He lay there awake, on his side of the bed, listening to her breathing, looking at the tapestry where it had torn over the years.

He knew it was not all good between them – he knew it was coming to an end if there wasn’t some drastic change. Arya was slipping away, moving further and further away from him and their relationship.

And he was moving away, too. He wasn’t trying as much as he had, not anymore. He was tired and felt inadequate. He felt lost. 

It wasn’t even just about losing his girlfriend. If it had been only that, if it had been just the two of them breaking up, he might have handled it alright. It was losing his best friend and that was so much harder. Arya had been his rock – he knew people thought he was her rock, but she had been his as well.

The fight itself was nothing spectacular. It was a silly argument that turned into yelling, something that had happened with increasing frequency lately. It had ended with him leaving and neither of them making the effort to apologise or solve the situation for long enough to make it clear that was never going to happen. 

* * *

The mealtime makes Gendry feel a little bit more at ease. The conversation flows aimlessly and with the normal amount of banter for the Stark household. Gendry is content to just sit back and listen.

Sometime after they have eaten, he walks in to the kitchen to get a drink. Sansa’s there, wrapping plastic over a bowl of food.

“Can you pass me the bottle?” he asks, gesturing for the sparkling water next to Sansa. The redhead grabs the bottle without words and puts it on the table next to him without meeting his eyes.

“Thanks,” he says. 

“The food was great. The fish especially, and the sauce,” he adds, more just to say something nice, although it is true too. 

“Thanks. Arya made the sauce,” Sansa says, and the emphasis on her sister's name is clear even though Sansa’s voice is tight. The quick glare she sends his way is like a challenge, daring him to comment on that.

Gendry is pretty sure this is him getting the cold shoulder from Sansa, so she must have heard what happened and it seems like she is not too happy about it. He guesses he deserves it to some extent at least and he can not say he is overly surprised, either.

Sansa and Arya were always the ones who took the pack mentality of the Starks most seriously and they would easily be untrusting towards anyone they thought might be any kind of a threat to the happiness of their siblings. So really, he should have been expecting he’d receive no love from Sansa after upsetting Arya.

He considers addressing the matter with the older Stark sister, but Sansa has already turned around and is chopping the vegetables with a force that might have something to do with what she is feeling – and that makes Gendry think it’s probably better he doesn’t say anything. It’s not like he would know what to say, anyways.

He wonders for the hundredth time perhaps how stupid he has been, messing up everything so much he doesn’t even know how to act with the people he considers his family.

  
  


Like every year, they pack everyone in two cars to go to the lake to see the bonfire. Gendry considers it good luck him and Arya are the ones who haven’t taken a drop of alcohol and therefore are the designated drivers and don’t end up in the same car.

At the lake everything is as it always is. There are various groups of people, families and friends, children running around, smaller ones falling asleep. The wood for the bonfire is set at the same piece of rock in the middle of the water as it always is.

Jon hands him a beer from the cooler they brought with them and taps his own against it.

“Happy Midsummer,” he says, giving Gendry a smile.

They turn to face the lake and spot Arya standing on the sand, kicking a rock and looking at her feet.

“Does she seem sad to you?” Jon asks, obviously worried.

Gendry shrugs.

“Do you know something about it?” Jon asks, finally seeming to pick up on something.

He runs a hand through his hair.

“Jon you can’t keep doing this.”

“What?”

“If you’re worried about Arya, talk to Arya. Don’t try to fish for information from me .”

Jon crunches his forehead at him, raising his hands up in front of him.

“Fine. Take it easy there mate, I was just asking. It wasn’t that serious.”

He sighs. Of course it wasn’t. 

“Sorry,” he mumbles.

Jon claps his arm to show they are okay and leaves him standing alone.

Gendry watches Jon walk up to Arya offering her a soda and ruffling her hair. The gesture makes Arya shove him away but before she can move further from Jon he drapes his arm around her. He can see Jon poking her side and whispering something in her ear, making her laugh – which, he guesses, was Jon’s whole intention.

He walks closer to the rest of the group, standing around Bran’s wheelchair on the boarded walkway. Arya and Jon join them and for a while Gendry just stands there, listening to his friends happily chat and tease each other, enjoying the beautiful evening.

For the evening is indeed very beautiful and Gendry can’t remember when they have had a Midsummer’s eve with such perfect weather, warm and with practically no wind. If it weren’t for his gloomy mood he himself has caused this would be the loveliest evening.

“I’ll go check how Lily’s doing,” he hears Arya say. He stops himself from looking at her walking away.

Much later he sees her, leaning against Sansa’s car, looking at the lake. She’s standing there by herself, arms wrapped around her body as if she’s shielding herself or trying to keep warm.

For a second he has the urge to go ask her how she is doing but then he remembers that he might be part of the reason why she’s there alone, that it might be him she’s trying to avoid.

  
  


When they get back to the Stark house, Gendry wanders to the back garden, walks aimlessly there before sitting in the shadows of the patio, sipping his second beer of the night, wallowing in his memories and once again reproaching himself for getting into a situation like this.

He should have known better.

Being with Arya had been getting a free pass for every ride. Being with Arya had been seeing all the colours. Being with Arya had been lifting his hand up in the roller coaster even when it terrified him and made him feel like he would fly off the whole thing.

Being with Arya had been being the king and the ruler, if only of the little universe only the two of them shared – but that was enough, because who even cared about the rest of the world when it was the two of them together?

Being with Arya had been the best kind of craziness, the best kind of recklessness he has known in all his life. He should have known being that reckless would get them both hurt eventually. 

They were to be forever but sometimes forever is much shorter than you’d think.

He falls asleep in the chair and wakes up to the chill of the early morning, his muscles stiff. Sometime during the night someone has been at the patio, too, because he is covered with a blanket. He knows it’s irrational, but for some reason he has the strongest feeling it has been Arya.

  
  


* * *

It’s sometime in the afternoon on Midsummer’s day and Gendry is getting ready to leave. They have eaten a delicious lunch and played the traditional game of croquet, ending in the same sort of excuses from everyone explaining why they didn’t win and the all too familiar glee from Jon who – by luck and maybe some cheating, as everyone else agrees – has been the lucky winner this year. 

As he is putting his bag in the backseat of his car Arya walks up to him.

“Look, Gendry,” she starts, looking like she’s gathering strength.

“We need to talk about this. We need to talk and find a way to be okay, or we have to make some sort of agreement on how we’re going to try to avoid each other because I can’t do this – I can’t keep being near you when we are like this.”

Gendry sighs. He did not want to have this conversation. In fact he’s been doing his hardest to avoid having this conversation but now that Arya is articulating it all so clearly he knows he can’t deny it to her. And a part of him knows she has a right to ask this from him.

“I’m not changing my life,” he mutters, closing his eyes. 

When he opens them, he realises how harsh his words must have sounded to Arya because she is looking like he has slapped her.

“We can talk. I don’t want to start avoiding stuff with my friends and I can’t force you to stop coming to meet them.”

Arya takes a breath, preparing herself. 

”I know you think it was a mistake, us sleeping together, but I thought we both wanted it," she says

"I thought you wanted me,” she adds, muttering. 

”Arya we tried that already, remember?" he exclaims. 

"Didn’t turn out that great then. And as I remember it, we both agreed on that then. I think we should just not go there again."

It was too much. You are too much. I feel too much, he wants to say, but he can’t get the words out.

Arya's eyes are closed and she is biting her lips. Her voice wavers when she says, 

“I knew it from the very beginning there was no getting over you.”

Her words still him for a moment. He shakes his head. 

“You can get over anyone". 

“Maybe, but you can fall back in love, too," Arya insists. 

“Maybe. Doesn’t make it wise though.”

“Don’t think this was ever about being wise.”

He pinches the bridge of his nose. 

”That was a long time ago, Arya. We’ve both moved on.”

He intends it to be the final word, but Arya looks at him, pleading. 

“There was never anyone like you.”

He had wished to hear something like that, so many times. But not now. 

”I can’t do this Arya,” is all he says, shaking his head.

”You seemed to be able to do it just fine after the gala,” Arya snaps back at him. 

”We shouldn’t have done that and you know it.”

”Well I’m sorry about that!” Arya says, raising her voice for the first time. 

"That doesn't really help it!" 

They are both breathing hard, trying not to turn the conversation into a full blown fight there at the front of Sansa’s house. 

The next time Arya speaks her words are more bitter. 

“I don’t know how us sleeping together and me telling you I wanted another chance turned into a situation where I need to constantly apologise.”

“It turned into that when you decided I didn’t mean enough for you to keep me in your life and almost got yourself killed and then left for seven years without saying goodbye.”

If Arya is surprised of the turn in the conversation she doesn't show it because her answer comes out fast. 

“Did you want to be with me when I was like that?” she spats out and he is left with an opened mouth because he can’t decide what to answer.

I always, always wanted to be with you, he wants to say. But then he thinks about Arya, how she was back then, constantly quiet and absent, angry and unpredictable, hiding her feelings so she just seemed emotionless and cold most of the time. 

“I would have helped you,” is what he finally says. 

Because of that he is sure. Even if they couldn't have been together, he would have done anything to help Arya – he still probably would.

Arya is biting her lip. When she closes her eyes he can see drops of water in the corners of them.

“I didn’t want that, not then, not when I was like that,” she says, stilling for a second like she’s trying very hard to find the right words, to explain it so that he understands.

“You had always looked at me like I was this amazing person and I was just messing up my entire life and I had nothing to give anyone and I had hurt you and you weren’t looking at me like that anymore.”

She looks up at him with her teary eyes, willing him to get the meaning in her words.

“I didn’t want to know how you’d look at me when I was that lost. Or if I couldn’t get better.”

Gendry is quiet and doesn’t turn his face to hers, so she adds,

“Besides, I needed to do it myself. I needed time and I needed to be away from here.”

He still has no words. He has wanted that explanation for seven years and now he doesn’t really know what to do with it. He doesn’t know what to do with any of the things Arya has just told him. He's pretty sure he'll need days to process it all. 

But Arya is standing in front of him now, waiting for him to say something, and he can't get a word out of his mouth. 

“I’ll stop making a fool of my myself. I get it, Gendry. You don’t want this, and you have every right not to. So I’ll stop dumping my feelings on you.”

Arya’s scrunching her brows and biting her lip, her gaze wandering around. 

“We’ll be polite and maybe we can learn some way to be friendly, I’m sure we can.”

She’s making an effort, he can see it. She’s holding back her emotions. She’s blinking a lot and he has a feeling she is fighting hard to keep her feelings under control. She’s trying not to cry, he guesses. And she’s probably fighting her urge to yell too.

He’s been angry and frustrated and tired with her, but no matter how out of hand this conversation has just somehow gotten, she’s seriously trying now. He has to give it to her, she’s acting in a very mature way. So he finds himself nodding at her.

“Okay.”

“Great,” she says, and her voice is quiet but he’s pretty sure it’s shaking a bit.

Her eyes wander for a few seconds more, before she repeats,

“Great.” 

And then she shrugs and mumbles something about needing to get going and walks in. Gendry stands there, next to his car, not knowing what he should do, still dumbfounded by the whole conversation and Arya’s words about not being able to let go and falling back in love.

The front door opens again and he sees Arya helping Bran get out. Arya walks fast past him, opening the passenger door on her way to open the back of Sansa’s car and starts arranging some stuff. 

Bran wheels after her, and the way the youngest Stark looks at him makes Gendry sure he again has some idea what’s going on. And it’s no surprise considering the manner Arya is forcefully moving the stuff in the car. 

Gendry moves to aid Bran but Arya brushes past him.

“We can manage,” is all she says, curtly, as she helps her brother lift himself in the passenger seat.

She doesn’t even look at him and he gets it – there’s no way of acting like the conversation didn't just happen, no matter how much they agreed on trying to get along. Arya’s hurt and maybe angry.

And he can’t deny he has been brusque with her. 

Knowing Arya this is probably the best treatment he could hope for right now. In fact it shows a growth in Arya that she’s biting her tongue and not lashing out on him.

That’s what hits him when Arya starts pulling the car out of the driveway.

She’s been surprisingly calm and composed through all of this. She’s even let him see signs of weakness and has admitted having feelings for him. There’s been no sense of her keeping all her walls up. 

He might have to really re-evaluate the words he associates with Arya. Because all her actions do seem like very adult behaviour. He might have made her feel like she was still the same mess she had been, but everything she’s said and done tells a different story. 

  
  



	9. What we were born to do

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Before Arya has time to decide if she should go say hi to Gendry’s sister she sees Gendry himself getting up from the table, saying something to Mya and walking up to the bar.
> 
> He greets both of the Stark sisters but turns then to Arya.
> 
> “Can we talk for a second?” he asks cautiously.
> 
> Arya turns around on her seat enough to look at him. Gendry seems nervous, and very different from how he has been with her lately. He had been the one avoiding her but now it’s him, coming to talk to her, asking for her permission.
> 
> “Sure,” she says.

Arya can’t shake it off, the conversation she had with Gendry on Midsummer's day. She had thought that by being honest, by telling him just how much he meant to her, they could have gotten to a better place. But it seems like she was wrong.

Admittedly, the talk got a bit out of hand and she hadn't actually planned on putting all of her feelings out there like that, not all at once. But she had decided not to hide from any of it and she had thought being honest might lead to at least a little bit better outcome. 

It had been the most they had ever talked about their break up and how her using drugs had made Gendry feel. Arya realises now she had never really known much about that.

She had had her guesses, of course. As part of her recovery she had had long conversations with each of her siblings – all difficult ones but relieving, too. Jon, Sansa and Bran had all had their different views and feelings, but they had been more understanding than she had ever thought possible. 

Bran had taken the matter with his usual calmness and philosophical approach. Jon had been a bit gloomy and the conversations were partly very depressing, but he had so much love for Arya, so much pure adoration, that it was clear he would stick by her side – even from afar – no matter what, always. And Sansa, who Arya had not always had the easiest relationship with, surprised her with the understanding she had. Later, Arya realised it was because she had had her own troubles too. 

Sansa didn’t make any excuses for Arya. On the contrary, she made it very clear that Arya needed to get her act together and take responsibility for her own actions. She also made it clear she would not feel sorry for Arya or expect any less from her – Arya needed to start standing on her own feet, take care of her own health, put her own life together and also remember the people close to her while doing it.

But Sansa also showed beyond doubt that she was there for Arya and that was not going to change.

With Gendry there had been no reconciliation, how ever much that might have been needed. There really was no way of calling your ex from rehab and trying to talk them into having a conversation to help _you_ get better – before even being well and healthy enough to properly apologise to them. 

She could never have asked Gendry to do it.

So the conversation on Midsummer’s day really was the first time they talked about any of it.

But honest or not, the talking did not make it any better. Granted, Gendry had said they would try to get along, but that did little to ease her feelings. It was not _getting along_ what she wanted. She didn’t want to just _not fight_ with Gendry. In her mind they would always be important to each other and it was hard to try to be nonchalant about anything involving Gendry. 

She had managed to live without Gendry while she was far away, and she had thought it would be okay once she returned but the last two months have proven that that’s really not how it goes between them. Now it seems ridiculous she ever thought they could be in the same place without being _them_.

* * *

  
  


It’s Saturday night the week after Midsummer and Arya is wrapped in a blanket on Sansa’s couch, sipping on tea while her sister is making arguments on why they should have a girls’ night out now that Bran’s in town and could help Jon watch Lily.

“Just get your butt off the couch and come. You’ve been moping enough,” Sansa tells her. 

Admittedly, they have had more than a few talks concerning Gendry and what Arya thinks he might be feeling towards her.

“Sansa I don’t want to go to a bar. I’m good here.”

Sansa shakes her head, pointing her finger at Arya.

“No, Arya Stark, we are not staying here. You were not born to cry your eyes out and mope over a stupid grumpy guy who is definitely still in love with you but may or may not ever get over the fact that you hurt him seven years ago, so –”

Arya opens her mouth to argue, a little taken aback by her sisters rant, but Sansa stops her with a raised finger – a telltale sign of how riled up she is.

“No, not even if it is Gendry. You were not brought to this earth to cry, full stop. You were born to get drunk with me and sing karaoke just as badly as I will.”

“Sansa I shouldn’t even be drinking that much – and I’m starting to think you have already had a few,” she adds the last part under her breath and hears Bran snicker beside her.

“I know. But we are still getting out, and you can just get in the spirit watching me,” Sansa says, ignoring her muttering and clearly gathering speed for another rant. 

“ – Because _I_ was not born to sit at home and be mommy dearest and feel sorry for myself because I have trust issues and don’t have any faith anymore that functional relationships even exist or that there are any men besides Samwell Tarly who actually want to do that equal parenting thing – and with all the love in the world for Sam I can not believe he’s becoming the man who I compare others to. So I wanna go out and drink some wine and if a cute enough guy comes up flirting to me then that’s even better.”

Arya turns her head to Bran for support, eyebrows raised in reaction to the outburst her sister has just released upon them, but her brother shakes his head.

“Arya you must take her to a bar. I don’t care of you have to just drink water and watch her flirt with the bartender but for the love of all gods get her out of here before she drives us all crazy.”

“Why is this my problem?” she whines exasperated.

“Consider this your punishment for being away and leaving me and Jon to deal with her when she was pregnant and emotional.”

Bran’s smile is devilish and Arya silently raises her middle finger at him, groaning as she gets up from the couch.

“I had to go with her to a birthing class where everyone thought I was the father and they told me I could massage her ‘wherever it feels good’ to ease her pains so you do not get to whine over a night at the bar,” Bran adds.

“Just let me brush my hair first,” she says, resigned, but not able to suppress a smile at the thought of Bran in a room full of pregnant women talking about the troubles of childbirth and everything that comes with it.

  
  
  


Arya has to give it to Sansa that she does find them a nice place to have those drinks. She steers them to sit down at the counter in a beer garden and the evening sun is still warming their backs as they make themselves comfortable.

“Arya you need to stop the moping. We’re supposed to be having fun,” Sansa tells her as they settle down on their stools.

She gestures to the bartender and orders herself a glass of wine. Arya asks for a non–alcoholic beer.

“I keep going over it in my mind. It was all so weird. We were doing so well and then he just freaked out.”

“Maybe he just panicked.”

She considers Sansa’s words for a minute.

“Maybe. But he said all that stuff about how I am and I – I think I’ve been doing alright for the most part. I know I lost it when Jon had the accident, but otherwise.”

“You have,” Sansa assures her.

“But it’s like it’s not enough for him and I don’t know what to do to make him see I’m really trying.”

Sansa rolls her eyes, obviously frustrated.

"You know it's unfair of him to expect you to be perfect to make up for how you were before. You're not perfect and you'll never be and if that's what he is asking for then you should just tell him to look for it elsewhere." 

"Sansa… That's a bit harsh, isn't it?" 

"No it's not!" Sansa says unwavering. 

"Look, I get it, he was hurt and he's feeling insecure and stuff. But he has no right to ask impossible things from you and then be angry when you can't reach those things. And, frankly, if he doesn't realise that then maybe you should just leave it. Leave him." 

"At least for now," Sansa adds, as if something in Arya's face tells she is not ready for hearing that thought out loud. 

"If you have to be apologizing all the time then there's something wrong. You don't want to be in a relationship like that." 

“But – “

"No, not even with Gendry."

Her sister’s words are definitive and Arya would not know how to answer them anyway. Like she usually does, Sansa is once again making a strong argument.

Arya sips her drink and turns the words over and over in her mind, watching as Sansa starts a conversation with the bartender who is very obviously flirting with her. 

Fine, she thinks, looking around the beer garden. There are probably worse things than enjoying some rays of sunshine in a place like this on a Saturday evening.

  
  


Sansa seems adamant on making the night a real girls night out with all the clichés and even forces Arya to come with her to the bathroom, where she wants to discuss the cuteness of the bartender. Arya humours her and she must admit, the guy behind the bar does look good, and yes, he definitely is flirting with Sansa, even if that might be something he does with many is his clients.

As they return to the bar Arya notices Gendry sitting in one of the tables further away from the bar with a dark haired woman. Instantly, there’s a lump in her throat. As if seeing him wasn’t enough, he’s here with someone. A tall woman who judging by her back does look kind of beautiful.

She doesn’t have time to elaborate on that thought before Gendry notices her, his eyes widening a bit. She can see him saying something to his companion, because then the woman turns around – and another feeling floods over Arya as she recognises a face she hasn’t seen in so many years. 

It’s Mya, Gendry’s older sister and there’s no mistaking of that with the blue eyes and the face so similar to Gendry’s – or the smile on the face as her eyes meet Arya’s and she waves her hand.

“Mya's here” she tells Sansa who has already resumed her conversation with the guy behind the bar.

Before Arya has time to decide if she should go say hi to Gendry’s sister she sees Gendry himself getting up from the table, saying something to Mya and walking up to the bar.

He greets both of the Stark sisters but turns then to Arya.

“Can we talk for a second?” he asks cautiously.

Arya turns around on her seat enough to look at him. Gendry seems nervous, and very different from how he has been with her lately. He had been the one avoiding her but now it’s him, coming to talk to her, asking for her permission.

“Sure,” she says.

“Can we go out to the street or something?” he suggest and Arya slides of her stool to follow him through the pub after telling Sansa she’ll be back soon.

  
  


“I think I owe you an apology,” Gendry says once they are standing in front of the pub.

Arya thinks about saying it’s okay but that would be lying because she really feels Gendry has been unfair. And Sansa’s words about constant apologies are still fresh on her mind, so she just stays still, waiting for him to elaborate.

“I was too harsh on you, after the gala. I do want us to get along because like I said, I don’t want to change my life and you’re here and we’ll meet.”

She nods but still doesn’t know what to say. He had said the same thing about not wanting to change his life at Midsummer's day and it still makes her feel like she’s just a nuisance for him.

She hears Gendry take a deep breath.

“Arya I’m not sure I know how to do any of this with you,” he says quietly and it feels like her heart could break all over again right there in that street corner in front of the pub.

But she raises her eyes to look at his and he’s just standing there, his hand stuffed into his pockets awkwardly, head tilted to the side a bit. And he doesn’t look angry, just a bit sad, and he looks her straight in the eye, when he adds:

“But I don’t want to avoid you. I’ve liked hanging out with you. And I really was too harsh on you. The things I said about you...It was unfair and I don't even think like that.”

She could cry then, it’s like she has way too many feelings inside her. 

It’s not much, what Gendry said. It’s no declaration of love but it feels honest and it feels like a start.

“I’ve liked hanging out with you, too,” she tells him.

“And I don’t want to fight with you but I’d rather fight with you if that’s how we can work this out than pretend we don’t know each other.”

He lets out a small chuckle at that.

“You’d always rather fight,” he says, but there’s a small smile on his face so she knows he’s teasing her. 

And that makes her heart swell, because if Gendry can tease her again, then maybe there’s hope they can build up their friendship again.

“We can settle it at the gym, I’m sure they would lend you some gloves,” she tells him and he just smiles back before getting to the door and holding it open for her to walk through.

“Come on, Mya wants to say hi to you.”

  
  


They walk back to the terrace behind the building, stopping at the bar first to get new drinks and head back to the table where Mya stands up, smiling as she embraces Arya.

It feels a bit weird after so many years but Gendry’s older sister had always liked Arya and the feeling had been mutual. 

She sits down next to Mya, asking how she’s been. Mya tells her about her kids, already getting so big it’s not a problem for her to take a weekend for herself and come visit Gendry in the north, the renovations of her house and her plans of looking for a new job.

Arya explains to Mya about her work at the museum, how she’s been spending time with Bran and Sansa’s daughter and how she is planning on going on a four–day long hike with Jon on her summer vacation.

“And Sansa seems to be doing good,” Mya notes, glancing at Sansa chatting with the bartender. 

They can’t see Sansa’s face, but they can see her hands moving as she gestures something, clearly in the middle of a lengthy story. The bartender looks like he is thoroughly enjoying the conversation as he is looking at Sansa with a smile and nodding enthusiastically. 

“She forced me to come here and watch her flirt with guys. Literally.”

“Ah, one of those nights,” Gendry says dryly.

“She does this every once in a while,” he explains to Mya who looks puzzled.

“Yes. I had only heard of these evenings and I had hoped Jon was exaggerating but I see now that he really wasn’t,” Arya sighs.

“What about the girl?” Mya asks gesturing to the other bartender. 

“What about her?” 

“She’s cute, isn’t she? And she was definitely trying to flirt with you.”

“No she wasn’t,” Arya laughs.

“Yes she was. Tell her Gendry!”

Gendry shakes his head, frowning.

“I wouldn’t know,” he mutters.

Arya glances at him. He appears uncomfortable and she is reminded of the feeling she had when she saw him with Mya. 

They have just reached some sort of understanding and she’d say they are friends again, but the whole situation with them is still fragile. So it is really too early to be comfortable talking about the other one flirting with anyone.

“You should go for it, get something out of this night,” Mya says, eyeing the girl at the bar again.

Gendry is scratching the back of his head, trying to appear all casual taking a sip of his drink.

“I think I’m good,” she tells Mya.

“Not really looking for anything like that.”

Because, really, she isn’t. Not with some girl at a bar, no matter how cute she might be. Not with some stranger, when the person she is interested in is sitting right there, on the other side of the table.

She watches Gendry from the corner of her eye, trying to read his face, but he delves into conversation with Mya and it's impossible to say what he’s thinking. After a while Arya excuses herself and returns to Sansa. 

Gendry and Mya leave when they are finished with their drinks. They come by to say a quick goodbye and Gendry's smile seems sincere enough when he says he guesses they'll see each other at the coffee shop. 

  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  
  


A week later Arya is at a pub again, their regular one this time, but it’s a very different thing now. 

“Are you coming tonight?” Gendry had texted her earlier, surprising her and making her wonder what was going on. 

They had been getting on better lately, but they still didn’t text.

“Jon is not doing too good and it would be good if you came,” his next text reads.

So, that is what is going on. Jon.

She had noticed it, of course she had. Jon had been broody lately – well, more broody than normally as he was always kind of broody. 

Gendry’s message still makes her worry, so she leaves her flat as fast as she can.

When she arrives at the pub Jon is in fact nursing a beer in a corner booth and from the looks of it it is definitely not his first. Gendry is sitting across from him, looking bored and tired. He perks up a bit as he sees Arya walking up to them. So does Jon.

"Arya! The one person who won't ever hate me!" 

“No one hates you Jon,” she says as she drops herself on the bench beside him.

“I think they do,” Jon whines. “But you are better than all the others.”

"What's going on?" Arya enquirers him. 

“Everything I touch goes to shit,” Jon mumbles, burying his head in his hands.

Arya meets Gendry’s eyes across the table and he just shakes his head a little bit and shrugs.

It’s hard to get more words out of Jon, at least any coherent ones. He just mumbles over and over again something about ruining everything and everybody hating him – mixing in some words about Arya being the only one who likes him and questioning why she doesn’t hate him as well.

It’s pretty tiring to say the least, as drunken, self–pitying ramblings usually are, and Arya can’t blame Gendry for leaving the table for a moment. When he comes back he’s carrying a ginger beer for Arya and a glass of water for Jon.

“Drink up,” he tells Jon who grunts his refusal.

“C’mon, drink it. Don’t be a baby.”

His tone is strict, clearly frustrated with Jon. Arya wonders how long he has been listening to this self–pitying.

"Gendry come on, stop being angry at me. And stop being angry at Arya too," Jon whines

"Just forgive her already." 

Arya glances at Gendry, surprised by Jon’s words but before Gendry can utter a word Jon’s hand is on her arm and he is making her turn towards him to listen.

"He's just a grump Arya, he's really a good man, do you know that? He's helped me a lot. When you weren't here, Arya." 

The way Jon keeps repeating her name is another unmistakable sign of how drunk he is. 

"I'm so happy you're back Arya. I missed you." 

"I know Jon. I missed you too."

She strokes his arm, not knowing what to think about everything Jon is saying. What was that about Gendry being angry? Why is Jon telling him Gendry is a good man? Of course she knows that he is. 

"I'm just a miserable shit." 

“No you’re not. You’re my favorite like you always were.”

“He was your favorite.”

Before Arya has any time to answer that – and she truly does not know what to say especially when Gendry is sitting right there on the opposite side of the table and even from the corner of her eye she can see how uncomfortable he is with all of this, Jon continues –

“I’ve never had anyone like that. Not like you guys. Never.”

It doesn’t seem like Gendry knows what to say to that either. This whole line of conversation seems too much like a minefield to be honest. It doesn’t feel like there is anything to be said that would make the situation any better or that wouldn’t be lying or end up hurting one of the participants – or all of those things at once. Besides, this doesn’t seem like the right moment to start discussing the deep meanings of Arya and Gendry’s complex relationship and everything they have meant to each other through the course of their lives.

Arya meets Gendry’s eyes again, trying to silently ask him for help to turn the conversation into a different direction.

“I think we should head home, don’t you?” Gendry offers and Arya starts nodding vigorously.

“Yes, we should. Come Jon, you can sleep on my couch.”

Jon starts protesting, but Arya manages to shut him up and get him up from the bench quickly enough

  
  


Luckily the pub is not too far away from Arya’s flat and Jon is not too drunk to walk fairly decently, at least when Arya keeps holding on to his arm. Gendry walks Jon’s bike and carries it up the stairs to the flat.

“You’ve seen this before?” she asks Gendry after Jon is safely on the couch.

“Yeah. He does this sometimes. Not so much lately but I’ve seen it a couple og times,” he shrugs and from the way he says it Arya can tell there have been way more times than ‘a couple’.

“It’s mostly about his love life and how that stuff never works out.”

So, Arya’s suspicions had been right when she had assumed Tormund had set Jon up with another one of those blind dates that from the looks of it still didn’t seem to end too happily.

“You think he’s lonely?”

Gendry shrugs.

“I don’t know. Maybe sometimes.”

“But it’s not just about his love life, you know. It’s about your family, his parents, and Sansa – well, not so much about Sansa anymore since she’s doing so well, but it was about Sansa and her men too for a while.”

Arya sighs. She knows of course how much baggage Jon has. She herself had lost her parents but for Jon it was double the loss. He had after all lost his biological parents when he was only a baby, and while he had been raised by his uncle – Arya’s dad – and his family as one of the pack, it was still a loss all the same.

On top of that there were those relationships that never seemed to end peacefully, and Arya is pretty sure she doesn’t even know all about that stuff since Jon hasn’t really been sharing that much information with her while she’s been away. Or ever, really. He always kept his love life to himself and never told any of them much about it.

“And...” Gendry starts again but seems unsure if he should continue.

“What?”

“It was about you for a long time.”

“Me?”

“You know he blames himself.”

Oh. The thought pierces her chest.

“Still?”

She had known Jon felt that way years ago, but they had talked about it a lot and she had thought he had gotten over it – that she had convinced him there had been nothing he could have done.

“You know how Jon is. He never really lets go of anything.”

No, he doesn’t and that is part of the problem. Arya thinks she might need to have one of those long talks with her brother again, to convince him that she at least is one thing he doesn’t need to worry about anymore and that it never was his fault what happened to her, none of it. 

It is starting to seep in that while she had done all that work to get herself over those nightmarish experiences and into a better place, people close to her might still have some stuff they need to deal with about it all. Maybe she had been so focused on herself she never really understood the depth of the effects her troubles had on other people. She might have discussed it in length with her therapist and she did have those conversations with her siblings, but she had been living far away and she is only now realising how much she might have missed. 

Gendry clears his throat.

“What he said about me being mad and all that. I’m really not. I swear. I was, I won’t lie, but I’m not.”

"Okay."

"No, Arya, really. I – it was a long time ago."

“It’s okay,” she says. “You had enough reasons to be angry. You all had enough reasons to be angry at me.”

“No, it’s really not okay,” Gendry says.

“You don’t have to blame yourself for everything either. I… Well, I really kinda overreacted after the gala."

“Well yes, you did.”

It’s a sign of how far they’ve already come that Gendry gives a small smile at that.

“I know I lost it with Jon’s accident but…”

“No,” Gendry interrupts her, his tone firm, shaking his head.

“Don’t beat yourself over that. Your brother got hurt, you’re allowed to get scared when something like that happens.”

Gendry gives her that kind smile again.

“You’re allowed to get scared. Me throwing that back at you was just me being a jerk.”

She just nods quietly for a moment, taking in his words.

“Why did Jon say you were mad at me?”

Gendry scrunches his face and puts his hands into his pockets, looking awkward.

“He was just being annoying, it was nothing,” he says and if that’s not him trying to avoid telling her the truth she doesn’t know what is, but she decides not to push it.

“Hey,” Gendry tilts his head.

“You were great tonight with Jon.”

She shrugs, but can’t help a smile from sneaking it’s way to her face.

“You’re starting to sound like Sansa with all this praise,” she tells him. 

Gendry raises his eyebrows in question.

“She’s been giving me these pep talks lately,” she explains.

“Maybe I should team up with her and try to talk to Jon.”

“Maybe,” Gendry smiles at her.

They stand there in the hallway for a little while, quiet and a bit awkward.

“I should get going,” Gendry says.

“Sleep well,” he says.

Arya goes to sleep thinking about Jon and Gendry, both of whom she knows she has hurt and the way the both of seem to have forgiven her. Jon without hesitation and Gendry after so much of it but nevertheless.

It’s true what Sansa says, it is time she stopped apologising all the time. But she thinks it might also be time for her to be the one who helps others deal with their burdens for once and not just the one who receives help.


	10. Tired but ok

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She hasn't got anything to hide anymore, it's clear and he wonders if he's the only one who takes a note of that. If he's the only one who finds himself subconsciously expecting her to stop rolling those sleeves beyond the elbows, if he's the only one always taken aback when she shows up in a sleeveless shirt or a dress that leaves both her arms and legs bare, if his eyes are the only ones that keep repeatedly wandering to the spots there the marks could once be found. 
> 
> But no, there really isn't anything to cover now and she doesn't.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know why but this chapter made me worry more than the most. It might be because there's only two more to come after this and I'm getting a bit anxious. Most of it it's written already so it will all get done, but I'm just trying to take some time so I can do it as well as possible. So, bear with me.

Gendry spends two weeks of his summer vacation in Storm’s End, visiting Mya and his other siblings. He takes his nieces and nephews out on little excursions, spends warm evenings sitting in Mya’s beautiful little garden talking to his sisters about life and enjoys the stormy seaside that is so different to Winterfell.

He wonders what it would be like living there again. He misses it sometimes, the sea and the storms and the company of his siblings. They did only meet for the first time as teenagers but there’s a bond they all share, a special kind of comfort they can give each other. There's nothing quite like it and Gendry knows to cherish it.

But Winterfell is home and the feeling of that is strong as Gendry gets off from the cab that leaves him in front of his building. The summer air of the north is fresh even on one of the warmest days of the entire summer and Gendry is happy he is back.

* * *

  
  


On a hot Saturday afternoon in mid August Gendry joins the Starks, Sam, Gilly and their kids at the lake. It’s obvious this will be one of the last warm summer days they’ll have and everyone is eager to gather in as much of the summer they can before the autumn comes.

While Arya and Gilly play with the kids in the water and Sam and Sansa focus on their reading on their towels, Gendry and Jon take a walk to the nearby kiosk to buy some coffee.

Jon's excited about his upcoming work trip way up north and as they walk back to the rest of their group he explains enthusiastically about all the places he will be visiting. He’s going with Tormund and they will be combining work with leisure and will spend some time with Tormund's family while there. 

Jon loves the wide wilderness of the far north and Gendry knows that if it wasn't for his siblings and his current job keeping him in Winterfell, he'd probably be permanently there. 

"I'm going to King's Landing on Monday for work. I'll be there 'till Saturday," Gendry mentions. 

"We'll see when I get back then. I’ll remind Sansa you can help too if needed while I’m gone. That’s ok, right?”

Gendry nods. 

“Sure. But you do know she can manage.”

“I know. And Arya’s here, too. But just, if they need anything, I'll remind them they can ask you,” Jon insists.

“Your sisters are big girls, Jon. They don’t need me looking after them.”

Jon doesn't look convinced.

"You just enjoy your time in the North. Freeze yourself in the rivers and climb some ridiculously steep mountain and all that." 

Jon chuckles.

“That I’ll do.”

Gendry thinks Jon seems to be feeling better - even if he is unnecessarily worried about Sansa - and he guesses it’s because of this trip. Jon’s always been a bit restless and there’s something about the wilderness that seems to sooth her. 

That restlessness, a sense of not knowing where they really belong or if they fit in where they are, is one of the things connecting Jon and Arya, something they’ve shared. But where Jon has those moments where his restlessness seems like it hasn’t quelled at all, Arya has appeared to be quite relaxed lately and content with where she is.

They walk along a small path weaving between the trees and following the curved shoreline. As they round a small spit their path brings them nearer to the waterside and they can see Arya playing with the kids further away.

She’s helping Lily lift a small bucket of water and spill it over her sandcastle. They can hear the kids’ laughter from there.

“I think you should consider it again,” Jon says.

Gendry looks at him, searching for his meaning and Jon just nods towards Arya.

He huffs.

“I think we’ve already had this conversation more times than we should have.”

He hasn’t spent much time with Jon since that night at the pub when Jon went into his depressed drunken state. But he has been thinking about the talk they had then.

“Why aren’t you with Arya?” Jon had asked him after he had rambled on and on about all his unlucky relationships and Gendry himself had said he wasn’t doing much better.

“She’s here again and she’s not leaving.”

He had shaked his head, tired.

“Jon I know you always thought we were perfect for each other but I think it has been proofed enough that that is really not how it is,” he had said.

“Me and Arya, we just hurt each other if we get too close. That’s not love. I think it’s safe to say we are both better off.”

“And what if being together was something that would make you both happier?” Jon had asked.

“Don’t think that’s something neither of us would like to risk. I think we tried that too many times already.”

“But she’s different now,” Jon had kept saying.

“Yes, I know. She’s good now. And she certainly didn't achieve that being with me. I don’t want to mess things up for her any more than I wanna mess them up for myself.”

“You’re just an idiot,” Jon had mumbled before going for another beer and another ramble about how everything in his life went to shit – which had made Gendry reach for his phone and type a message to Arya, asking her to come to his help.

Now he watches Arya splash some water on the kids, making them laugh loudly. 

They have been building their friendship up again slowly but keeping a little more distance than they did at first. They meet in situations like this and they still run into each other at the coffee shop and in the supermarket, but they haven’t gone running together or arranged any activities together.

It’s been a lot better than the fighting and easier to come into terms with than the building tension before the gala was. Maybe a little formal, which is odd for the two of them and they are still finding their way around each other, but mostly it’s been good.

He’s spent enough time thinking about this and he discussed it in lengths with his sisters while he was in Storm’s End. He knows Jon has also spent a lot of time with Arya recently on their hiking trip so he has to wonder if she’s been telling Jon something.

“Okay. I promise I won’t speak any more about this, but I just need to say one thing,” Jon says.

“Okay, two things. First: I think you’re stupid if you let the mistakes she made when she was really young stop you guys from being together for maybe the rest of your lives.”

“And second?” Gendry asks even though he’s pretty sure he doesn’t want to hear it.

“She’s in love with you.”

“Jon,” he huffs, exasperated.

This is exactly what he doesn’t need. His sisters telling him _he_ was in love and should just get his head sorted was enough. More than, actually.

“Fine, fine,” Jon says hurriedly, raising his hands up in surrender.

“I promised you I won’t say anything about this anymore, but I just felt it had to be said. In case you were dense enough not to realise it on your own.”

Jon continues his walk towards their place on the sand and after a beat Gendry follows him, wondering how in the world Jon can appear so serene after dropping something like that on him.

When they can finally convince the kids to get out of the water and come to eat something Arya returns to their little camp site too, laying down on her towel. She nibbles on some strawberries, looking comfortable laying on her stomach. 

Gendry can’t help but catch another look at her and notice the little droplets of water still glistening on her skin or the way her bikini barely seems to cover anything.There’s so much of her skin in his line of vision, pale despite it being August because these northerners never seem to catch any colour on their skin, they only get sunburnt.

But Arya doesn’t seem to worry about that as she isn’t throwing a shirt or scarf on her shoulders like Sansa has done to keep her skin covered. No, Arya just lays there, reaching for the box of strawberries in a way that makes her back arch and her butt stick out a bit higher – and Gendry really needs to take his eyes away from her.

He's noticed it on several occasions, her dressing herself in less clothes. It's not so much revealing or even sexy – well, it might very well be that too, or he is actually very much aware that it is sexy as hell if you ask him, but he won't let his mind wonder there – than it is relaxed. 

If she feels like shedding her trademark oversized t-shirt while working out, she does just that, continuing her exercise in the yoga pants or shorts and the sports bra seemingly without another thought about it. And when the sun shines directly to their table at the terrace of the pub, she just rolls up the sleeves of her shirt. Or she wears this tiny excuse for a swimwear when they go to the beach with the kids.

She hasn't got anything to hide anymore, it's clear and he wonders if he's the only one who takes a note of that. If he's the only one who finds himself subconsciously expecting her to stop rolling those sleeves beyond the elbows, if he's the only one always taken aback when she shows up in a sleeveless shirt or a dress that leaves both her arms and legs bare, if his eyes are the only ones that keep repeatedly wandering to the spots there the marks could once be found. 

But no, there really isn't anything to cover now and she doesn't. Even though the oversized shirts are a standard, it’s obviously not about covering up herself. It’s about being comfortable. And when it’s more comfortable to wear something very much smaller, she does exactly that, not caring who’s around to see. She seems to be happy in her body now, happy and confident. 

But her confidence isn’t the same it used to be when they were younger. Then it was a sort of fearlessness but also sometimes a front she put up, just a face. Now it seems to come from somewhere deeper in her. It’s not there for other people, it’s for her.

Things have been better with the two of them and they even had their morning coffee together a couple of times before his vacation. They haven’t been running into each other for a while as Gendry has been away on his trip in Storm’s End and Arya hiking with Jon. And now she’s here, laughing and goofing off with the children, clearly in a good mood. The awkwardness seems to have dissolved and Gendry is very happy about that.

He is also very happy that him sorting out things with Arya has had the effect that Sansa is back to her normal attitude towards him. 

“Oh my god it's been long since I was in King's Landing," Sansa sighs as Gendry mentions his upcoming work trip.

"Lucky you," Arya mutters and Jon snickers at her words – he clearly agrees.

But Sansa shrugs.

"I wouldn't mind visiting KL."

"I thought you would have had enough of that place," Arya says dryly.

"It wasn't the city that was the problem," Sansa remarks and Gendry knows she’s referring to the first one of the several abusive men she’s had to deal with during her life. 

"I'd much rather go up north with Jon." 

Sansa rolls her eyes. 

"We all know that." 

Then she turns to Gendry. 

“How long are you staying there?”

“Until Saturday. The work stuff ends on Friday but I’ll meet some old friends, catch up with them.”

“That sounds nice.”

“Nice and sweaty,” Arya mutters again and Gendry can’t help but laugh at her exaggerated tone of voice, the sarcasm dripping from it and the smile he can see on her face even when she tries to look serious. It feels so good to have her tease him again.

And when they go swimming later, Arya just happens to splash some water on his face and he doesn’t even think twice as he grabs her ankle when she swims past him, pulling her to him, lifting her up and flipping her back in the water. He just enjoys the way her laughter resounds over the lake.

  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  


When he next sees Arya, waiting in line at the coffee shop a little over a week later, she is looking like shit. Her hair is pulled on to a messy bun on top of her head, her skin looks pale and she has dark circles under her eyes. She looks like she hasn’t slept at all.

All at once there are a hundred different alarms ringing in his head as he takes her in: the fingers trying to smooth out her hair, the furrow of her brows as she seemingly struggles to stay awake and her blank stare at the products on display at the counter of the coffee shop. 

His mind is conjuring questions faster than he can keep up with. What has she been doing? Who has she been with? He tries to come up with an appropriate way to voice those thoughts, but she beats him to it. 

"Lily has laryngitis. She coughed the entire night. And Sansa's sick too so I wanted to let her sleep so she'd get better," she explains and yawns. 

Gendry tries not to let out a long breath of relief as he takes another look at her – and no, she doesn't look disoriented, not really, just tired, and she clearly has clean clothes and she must have showered, too – 

"I think I need a whole bucket of espresso to survive work." 

Her words break off his contemplation and he’s suddenly aware of their whereabouts again. 

"You go sit down, I'll get you the coffee," he tells her, pushing her towards the tables. 

Arya is leaning on her arms, practically sleeping on top of the table as he lays down the coffee and a scone he bought her, guessing she hasn’t eaten anything this morning. Arya raises her head and looks at the scone for a second, her brain clearly not picking up why it’s set before her. He pushes the pastry closer to her.

”Eat,” he tells her.

She takes a sip of her coffee and starts eating in silence. Gendry watches her, eating away, clearly too tired to talk much.

”Are you going to work?” he asks and she nods.

”And I promised Sansa I’d go there when I get off, get their groceries and bring something for dinner so that she won’t have to worry about that,” Arya explains.

”Shouldn’t you rest?”

Arya shrugs.

”Sansa doesn’t get any rest either. At least I can sleep tonight.”

She says it like it's obvious, like there really is no question if she'll help Sansa, like it's nothing that she’s getting herself tired like that even though she doesn't really have to. She’s dead tired but she doesn't think it's an option not to help. 

”Let me drive you there,” Gendry says on a whim.

”I don’t have anything planned and you’ll be there earlier if I drive you. And maybe I can help with Lily too.”

Arya offers him a tired smile.

”I’d say you don’t have to do it but since you’re offering and I really would like a ride tonight I won’t bother.”

”Good,” he says.

”I’ll pick you up from your place at 5.30 then, is that good?”

”You’re a good man Gendry Waters.”

Gendry does not like to think about how Arya was when she was using, the time when she was at her worst. 

Arya with those glassy eyes and the air of indifference might be his worst memory. Or at least it’s the one that seems to forever stay bitter. Seeing the person who had always been filled with so much energy and determination being so utterly lost had been something out of the scariest nightmares he could ever imagine.

He had only seen her well and truly stoned a few times. Most often she was quite good at keeping it all under some sort of control in a very Arya fashion. And when she was totally out of it she mostly kept away from them, Gendry and her siblings. That something had been off had mostly been evident only by her hiding her eyes or a nervous tapping of foot or maybe her not concentrating on what was actually happening around her. 

But as time went on she cared less and less about hiding and that’s how he ultimately came aware of just how bad the situation was when he noticed her arms having needle marks and not long after that he stumbled onto her in the driveway of the Stark house, leaning against the wall, nearly unconscious. 

Their relationship had changed by then and he did not really consider her his girlfriend anymore so he didn't know if it was his place to intervene and he also knew she didn’t like it when he did. Besides, he didn’t even know what to do. So he just helped her inside while the barely conscious Arya mumbled swear words and hardly coherent statements about not needing his help.

He had nightmares about her like that for a long time after that.

That is why the small moment of thinking she has gone back to it is enough to keep him unfocused for long after he has bid her a nice day at work. He needs to remind himself time after time that it was pretty much the opposite of that now since she wasn’t tired because she had been doing something irresponsible. She was tired because she had been helping others.

At 5.30 sharp Gendry picks Arya up in front of her building and drives them to a supermarket closer to Sansa’s house, where Arya starts going through the shopping list she has written in her phone. She looks tired, still, and Gendry helps her by running to get some stuff from the furthest end of the store, but she still goes through her list meticulously and makes sure she gets everything she needs. 

By the time they get to the line to the cash register Arya is yawning. She hasn’t been talking much and Gendry assumes it's because of her tiredness. She looks better than she did in the morning but she must still be dead tired. 

The short drive to Sansa’s house is enough to lull Arya to sleep and she only jerks awake as Gendry takes his keys off the ignition.

Lily appears to be well on her way to getting better because as soon as they walk in the house the little girl is there to greet them, giving Arya a hug and peering at Gendry over her shoulder.

Sansa comes to the hallway as well and judging by how unsurprised she seems Gendry deduces Arya must have told her he was coming.

Arya picks Lily up and Gendry proceeds to carry their shopping bags to the kitchen, like he's part of the normal crew around the house - which, now that he thinks about it, he used to be, many years ago when it was at least once a week that he helped Arya prepare a meal in this same house. 

As he puts the cold foods to the fridge and sets the stuff they need to make the quick pasta dinner Arya has planned to the kitchen island, he watches Arya rub Sansa’s arm, asking how she’s doing while bouncing Lily on her arms to keep the girl happy. 

Granted, Sansa does look more tired than Gendry ever remembers seeing her, but still the change in Arya is remarkable. She was just dozing off in the car but now she seems to have taken charge of this situation and is ordering Sansa to rest on the couch. It looks like Arya is forcing herself to perk up to give Sansa the permission to be the tired one now.

“Lily why don’t you show Gendry the legos uncle Bran bought you,” he hears Arya say to her niece and then Arya directs her words to him.

“I can get the pasta done really quick if you don’t mind keeping Lily company for a second.”

Lily is looking at him expectantly but she seems to be a little apprehensive too. She’s not a shy one and Gendry knows that but it always takes her a little while to warm up to Gendry again.

“You know Lillies, Gendry really loves legos and I’m sure he would build you anything you wanted,” Arya tells the kid in and excited voice, smiling at her encouragingly. 

That seems to do the trick as the girl extends her hand to Gendry and starts pulling him to the living room where he can already spot several toys laying around.

Gendry’s been around enough children to pretty much know how to act around them, but he's still a little unsure in these moments when he’s expected to handle the situation with a small toddler like Lily all on his own. Well, Sansa is curled up on the couch only a few meters away and if he turns his head he can see Arya moving around the kitchen, so technically he’s not really alone, but it's close enough for him. 

It seems he’s doing alright because Lily stays with him happily and when after barely fifteen minutes Arya calls for them to come eat, the girl wants him to carry her to the kitchen.

He wonders briefly what sort of magic Arya has done to pull out a full dinner in such a short time, but even more amazing is her firm but kind attitude towards Lily who doesn’t seem to be in the mood for eating.

“I think her throat is still hurting, she hasn’t eaten much today,” Sansa explains. 

Arya strokes Lily’s head.

“Drink you milk then, will you?” Arya asks the girl and after some more tempting from Arya the kid obeys.

After dinner Lily goes back to her legos and Arya orders Sansa to the shower and starts putting the dishes away.

Gendry looks at the girl blabbering to the toys and goes to Arya, touching her arm gently. 

"Hey. Go rest for a while. I can get this thing cleaned and Lily seems happy on her own for now." 

Arya smiles at him tiredly before heading for the couch. 

"You truly are a good man."

“You didn’t need to clean my kitchen,” Sansa says as returns from her shower when Gendry is swiping the counter.

She looks thoroughly awkward at seeing him in the action and Gendry guesses it’s not too often that someone does things like that for her.

“It’s okay,” he assures.

“Arya made the food so I thought it was fair I did something too.”

“I ate too. And you watched my kid while she made the dinner,” Sansa points out.

He shrugs. When he glances at the living room he sees Arya laying on the couch with Lily cradled next to her, both of them looking at a book and speaking in low voices, giggling.

Sansa seems to notice him looking, as she says,

“Thank god Arya was here last night, I was so tired I don’t know what I would have done without her. Or today, I really had no energy for cooking.”

He looks at Sansa, not sure how to answer that.

“She helps me so much. I don’t know what I’d do without her anymore.”

“I think she just likes hanging out with you,” he says.

Sansa looks pensive. There’s a melancholy in her, Gendry has noticed it many times before and he’s never really been able to put his finger on it to know what it really is about but he guesses it has something to do with all the times Sansa’s life hasn’t gone how she had dreamt. But now that melancholy is there while she’s looking at Arya.

“It’s just that I can’t really do so much for her. She’s my support system and she’s here all the time getting herself tired because of me and Lily and I think she could use someone taking care of her and making sure she rests enough too,” Sansa says.

The look she gives him makes him wonder if that statement is to be interpreted as a suggestion, too.

“Make sure she goes home to sleep will you?” Sansa asks. 

He promises to do that and Sansa throws him another pointed look before joining her sister and daughter in the living room.

The fact that this is now the second time in less than two weeks time that he’s having a conversation regarding Arya – and he guesses this one is about _his_ relationship with Arya as much as the last one was – does make him a little perplexed. The second one of Arya’s siblings suggesting he should maybe re-evaluate the way he acts when Arya is concerned. He’s not sure how he feels about being talked to like this.

But it’s also clear that it’s no use pretending he doesn’t like doing exactly what Sansa suggested. He likes making sure Arya is feeling better. And not because he thinks she can’t manage, since she is proving it time and time again that she can, but because he likes being there for Arya, he likes being someone she trusts.

The drive back downtown is quiet. Arya closes her eyes and Gendry is pretty sure she falls asleep again, so when he doesn’t see a parking space in front of her building, he just drives to his own block and lets Arya wake up while he gets out of the car and grabs the bag of groceries Arya had bought for herself from the back seat. 

"I can take it," she tells him. 

"I'll carry it, it's pretty heavy," he insists. 

It says something about how tired she is that she doesn't argue, only starts walking to the direction of her home. 

They are nearly there when Gendry gathers the courage to voice the thought that has been on his mind since the moment he saw her in the morning. 

"You know, this morning, when I saw you at the coffee shop," he starts. 

He's still not sure if he should say this. 

"You had circles under your eyes, and for a second there I thought maybe you were…" 

He shrugs awkwardly. 

The look on her face is so unsure, so hurt as she purses her lips and tilts her head searching for his meaning, seemingly already knowing what it is and then nods, turning to look the other way, giving out a sad sort of chuckle. 

She closes her eyes for a second, biting her lip. She looks so broken, he thinks, so very, very tired. But she opens her eyes and even though she's still tired there’s also determination there again.

“They told me never to swear in rehab,” she tells him. 

“But I made a promise to myself anyways. I said I wouldn’t come back before I knew I was better, before I knew how to deal with things in different ways I had. I promised myself I’d come back only when I was really done with running away.”

She speaks in a calm voice and she doesn’t fidget when she stands there in front of him.

“You don’t have to trust me, but you don’t have to worry about me either.”

She gives him a small smile and a nod before she takes the plastic bag from him and turns to walk to her door, starting to climb the stairs to the front door of her building.

“Arya!” he calls after her. She turns around enough to see his face as he says.

“I trust you.”

She looks at him before she descends down from the stairs and walks the couple of steps separating them. She moves close to him, wraps her free arm around his waist and presses her tiny form against him, letting her face lean on his chest. She stays there for a moment before letting go. 

"Thanks for today Gendry," she says before turning around again. 


	11. Deep in conversation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I… I know what you mean. We were so young and it was all so much.”  
> He sighs before continuing, running his hand through his hair, deciding this is a moment for speaking, not for being silent.  
> “I just wish it hadn’t gone like that. I wish we could have stayed friends still.”  
> He can see the quiver in her lips as she breathes in deep and the way she purses them together to stop it. She turns her face away from him to blink for a few long seconds. She’s nodding and swallowing, but when she turns back there are still tears on her face.   
> “I missed you so much.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't believe there's only one chapter to go but somehow that is how it is. This one has a lot of pretty deep conversations, but there's some real progress too, so we are truly getting closer to that happy ending that was promised. 
> 
> A huge thank you for all the comments. This is a story that feels somehow super close to my heart, and when I started this I promised myself I would make no compromises, only write what I felt was right for this story, so I am so happy there are people who are enjoying this.

There’s once again a new sort of normal, one where he and Arya are friends again and the fact that there are other types of feelings lingering is acknowledged but not addressed at the moment. 

This new phase has them meeting each other at the coffee shop almost every morning and now, two weeks after the evening at Sansa’s when Lily had been sick, they’ve dropped the pretense and started mentioning if they’ll be there a little earlier or later the next morning. It’s become their routine, and not just something that happens seemingly on accident. 

They have even gone to lunch together twice. Arya had asked him if he had ever eaten at a restaurant close to his office that she was keen to try and he had told her he really liked that place and somehow they had decided to go there together. And then at that lunch they had started talking about their favorite lunch spots and Arya had spoken so highly about a little Bravosi place near the museum that Gendry had simply had to have lunch there – and of course he ended up going there with Arya. 

It's been nice, there's no way around it. He likes spending time with Arya, he likes Arya, just like he always has. She gets him, she makes him laugh and talking with her is easy. It's effortless in the best way possible and he doesn’t want to deny himself of that.

  
  


* * *

The weather is turning chilly, but they have decided to take what might be one of the last chances to play their regular game of Sunday football. While they wait for some of the guys to arrive, Arya runs to the side of the field to say hi to someone.

Gendry can see her, talking animatedly to the guy. It's one of her co-workers, he has seen them walking down the museum steps together when he's gone to take Arya to lunch. 

Tormund is quick to comment on it when Arya returns to their bench. 

"Who's the mystery man?" Tormund gestures towards the guy still standing near the parking lot. 

"Have you been having a secret lover behind our backs?" 

Arya just rolls her eyes.

“Wouldn’t you like to know that,” is all she says as she picks up a ball and starts to bounce it with her knees and ankles.

“And speaking about secret lovers, I got the impression you and Jon had quite the trip up north?” 

She looks at Tormund with eyes full of mirth.

“Don’t you try changing the subject,” Tormund answers with a smile and goes to take the ball away from Arya, which leads to the two of them laughing loudly while they fight for the dominance of the ball and then, once again, Tormund picking Arya up and lifting her high above the ground.

“I’m gonna get that information out of you,” Tormund bellows between bursts of laughter.

“You tell me your info and I’ll tell mine,” Arya laughs.

Gendry had been aware about something happening on Jon and Tormund's trip that neither of them had discussed with him, and now Arya talking about it and her own situation so casually makes him wonder if Arya actually has something going on in her life she isn’t sharing with any of them.

Last week, when Arya couldn't join them on pub night, she had said it was because she was going out with some people from work and he can’t stop himself from wondering if it was that guy who she was with then. 

He had thought they were moving towards, well, he's not sure what exactly but something, and if she's dating that guy then he has read the situation wrong again… And he can’t deny that makes him feel bad. It makes him feel jealous, there’s no other way to put it quite frankly.

But as the rest of their group arrive he tries to push that feeling aside. Arya throwing her bright smile at him when they take their positions on the field helps.

"I was going to grab a sandwich, wanna join me?" Arya asks him as they head to Jon’s car after their game.

"Don’t I even get an invite anymore?" Jon grumbles from her other side.

"Well Jon, do you want to get a sandwich from that Dornish place you hate?" 

Arya’s tone is exaggerating and so is Jon’s pout.

"Don’t come asking for my help when you get food poisoning from that shack." 

Arya laughs at her brother.

"We’re not getting food poisoning you grump. Just because you can’t handle some spice doesn’t mean me and Gendry can’t enjoy it."

She shoves Jon's arm and Gendry wonders how it’s already decided he’s joining Arya. 

But he doesn’t complain, because he really does like those sandwiches, he is hungry and he doesn’t mind spending a little more time with Arya, especially when the thought of that co-worker of hers still bothers him.  
  
  


The two of them are just about to sit down on the high stools facing the window of the little sandwich shop as noise from the counter catches their attention. There’s a woman, clearly under the influence of some substance, her voice rising as she argues with the two employees behind the desk. They watch the exchange of words for a while before Arya slides off her seat. He’s about to question if it’s really wise for her to go, but she is already there, calmly asking what’s going on. 

She starts talking with the woman in a low voice and Gendry can’t make out all her words, but it’s clear she’s trying to find some sort of solution to the argument. He sees her nod to the employees before she reaches for her purse, pulls out her credit card and taps it at the machine on the counter at the same time as one of the employees starts putting a sandwich together.

Arya stays there, still chatting quietly with the woman as they wait for the employees to get the sandwich and a drink ready. When they are done, she takes them from the counter and hands them over to the woman, giving her a small smile and watching her leave before she walks back to the table.

“What was that?” he asks softly as she sits down and picks up her sandwich, ready to start eating.

Arya shrugs.

“The woman was just asking for something to eat and was getting upset when they didn’t give her anything.”

“So you paid for her food?”

She nods, mid-bite.

“She looked like she hadn’t eaten in a while, didn't she?” she explains once her mouth is empty again.

“It’s better if you eat. Whatever is happening, it’s always better to be properly fed.”

He can’t argue with that, especially when the image of Arya herself in her most skeletal state flashes through his mind.

Arya is quiet but doesn’t seem otherwise too affected by the incident. 

Gendry wonders if he should just leave it, but he knows they can’t go on forever avoiding everything regarding her addiction. The more they hang out the weirder he feels about how little he knows of all that. 

He turns the words around in his head a couple of times before gathering his courage.

“You were so thin then.”

She turns to look at him quietly, as if she hasn’t heard him, or isn’t sure what he’s implying even though he is certain she knows exactly what he means _–_ she’s just deciding on how to approach it.

“It was the worst while I was still here. Later there were never that long periods when I didn’t eat,” she tells him and continues.

“Which was good because at least here Jon or Sansa made me eat properly every once in a while.”

“Did you relapse many times?” he asks and doesn’t miss the breath she takes. 

It’s a straightforward question, he knows that, but he has been wondering about it and this feels like a moment when he can ask.

She purses her lips for a moment, takes a sip from her drink and settles it carefully to the table. Her fingers start to play with her napkin absentmindedly as she speaks.

“A few,” she says.

She closes her eyes. It’s obvious this is not an easy topic, so he places his hand on her arm for a second.

“If you don’t want to talk about it we don’t have to but I just wondered. I never talked with Jon about it,” he tells her carefully.

He doesn’t mention that it was because he forbid Jon from telling him anything in his desperate attempt to forget Arya and their relationship completely. This isn’t the moment for _that_ conversation.

“I can talk about it,” she says.

“What would you like to know?”

“How was it – I mean, did someone help you or how did you get through it every time when you were overseas?” 

It’s only one of the many things he had thought of, but the way she had just helped that lady made it the first one to come out.

He had pictured it so many times, her out there all on her own, doing god knows what and just generally not being okay and not having the people closest to her near her.

“I had people helping me sometimes. And sometimes I just searched for a clinic on my own. Sansa flew to see me once and Bran too. They found me some people who could help and visited me at rehab.”

He had known of course, that Arya’s siblings had visited her. He might have told them he didn’t want to discuss anything concerning Arya, but he had heard some stuff over the years. And despite his reluctance to talking about her and his decision to not ask anything, he hadn’t really tried that much to avoid hearing - it would be more honest to say he had strained his ears every time his ears catched her name mentioned and remembered all the details he heard.

“It must have been hard on your own.”

Arya is still fumbling with the napkin. She shrugs.

"The physical thing was always easy to kick. Well, easy might be an exaggeration and I know that's hard for a lot of people and I don't know why it wasn't for me, I guess I don't have the gene for addictions or something…" Arya stops, obviously realizing she's rambling. 

"Anyways, that wasn't the hardest thing. The hard part was when something went wrong, and I didn't know how to deal with it, and…" 

"And you went back to it." 

She nods.

“Jon kept telling me to come back home or to go north with him so he could just keep me away from people and take care of me until I felt better, but I just couldn’t come here.”

“Why not?”

She sighs, takes the last sip from her drink and crumbles the wrapping from her sandwich into a ball before she answers, keeping her eyes on the crumbled paper.

"I messed up and I hurt all of you and I needed the time to accept it and forgive myself to some degree at least so I could move forward. And I couldn't do that here." 

“What do you mean forgive yourself?” he has to ask.

"Don’t know if that makes sense but I was just too embarrassed and too angry at myself that on top of everything else I had gone and messed up and made it even worse for all of you. Everyone else was kind of managing all of it and I couldn't."

She’s looking so vulnerable again and he wants so much to tell her that was never how he saw it, but she keeps speaking, playing with the napkin again.

"And I always told myself I would not get into trouble _–_ that I could handle that stuff, that I knew better, I knew my limits and I wouldn't get dragged into all of it, I could just have a moment where I didn't have to think about anything and then I'd be able to just go on with my life and be okay… "

Her napkin is in shreds and Arya seems to realise it as she trails off. She gathers all the pieces into her empty plastic cup.

“Arya you’re not the first or last person to get into it,” he tells her. 

She sighs.

“I know,” she says but she doesn’t look any happier.

The weight of their conversation is still lingering around them as they leave the sandwich place and start walking slowly towards their homes.

“I don’t particularly like talking about it but if you want to ask something it’s okay. I had so many talks with Jon and Sansa and Bran while I was in rehab, but you and me never really talked about any of it so I guess it’s kind of needed,” she tells him.

He nods because she is right, they do need to have this conversation. He needs to talk to her about these things and he needs to hear her speak about it all.

“I don’t know if Jon ever told you but I almost hit one of those friends of yours once.”

She looks at him and the surprise in her voice is evident.

“What?”

“The skinny bald one?” he says and she nods. 

”I ran into him in town, it was months after you left. He was talking to a kid and I thought he might have been selling them something and I just lost it,” he tells her.

“Luckily Bella was with me when it happened so she stopped me, held on to my arm and wouldn’t let me go. And then she pretty much forced me to move to Storm’s End after that.”

“Huh,” is all she says and he feels like he needs to explain it a little bit more.

“I was so angry at them, I kept thinking it was their fault what happened to us.”

This feels like dangerous territory, even referencing to their break up. The balance between them is still fragile and they haven’t even talked about any of the things Arya said to him on Midsummer’s day. And it’s the first time he has in any way mentioned how much she hurt him if you don’t count those angry words he threw at her after they slept together on the night of the gala. So saying this feels like a huge thing already.

But again it seems Arya is not the one to shy away from difficult conversations.

“You know, it wasn’t just the drugs,” she tells him. 

“We were so young and I had never been with anyone else really. I think we would have messed it up without the drugs too, somehow. Or I would have messed it up. I was just too young.”

Gendry gives out the longest sigh. 

He has spent seven years going over their break up in his mind. He has mulled over things he might have done differently and he has listed all his mistakes.

But he knows Arya is right. He had realised it himself at some point.

Arya had needed her freedom, and he had needed his too. He had needed to learn to cope on his own and take full charge of his own life instead of just following Arya. 

He won’t ever thank Arya for leaving him and he can’t find anything good in the way it happened, but they had both needed some time for themselves.

If Arya had never left he might have never moved to Storm’s End for a couple of years and he might never have learnt to know his siblings as well as he does. And those years had proved important for his career too. He had learned to do things to make himself proud, not just to make Arya proud.

It’s still a different thing to know that or admit it to himself and another to hear Arya say it too.

But that is how she is now. She doesn’t shy away from responsibility. She doesn’t blame the drugs for the things she did and she doesn’t blame anyone else for her mistakes. If anything Gendry thinks she might be taking the responsibility for the mistakes other people did on top of her own ones.

“It wasn’t just you,” he says. 

His voice is quiet, because it’s taking all he has to admit it out loud and to her of all people. 

“I… I know what you mean. We were so young and it was all so much.”

He sighs before continuing, running his hand through his hair, deciding this is a moment for speaking, not for being silent.

“I just wish it hadn’t gone like that. I wish we could have stayed friends still.”

He can see the quiver of her lips as she breathes in deep and the way she purses them together to stop it. She turns her face away from him to blink for a few long seconds. She’s nodding and swallowing, brushing her eyes, but when she turns back there are still tears on her face. 

“I missed you so much.”

There are no words in him to answer her, so he just nods. 

Gods, he had missed her so much it had felt impossible to breath at first. And even later, when he had learned how to go on with his life without her on his side, he had found himself wondering in various different situations what she would have said or how she would have reacted and just wishing he could have told her things. 

He had missed her friendship most of all and he knows she knows that even though he can’t put any of that into words right now.

They have arrived in front of her building and he’s about to walk away, but the thought nagging in his mind won’t leave him alone. He shouldn't ask but he can't help it. 

"Hey," he says, turning back around. 

"Are you going out with that guy? The one who was at the park today?" 

She blinks at him, obviously surprised. 

"No, I'm not going out with him. I'm not going out with anyone." 

She turns around to go inside but he stops her. 

"Arya, wait.” 

She obliges, waiting for him to continue.

“I'm… I'm happy you’re not going out with him. And I know that might be a shitty thing for me to say since it's mostly because of me that we're not… That we're not together or something like that, but I am still happy you're not going out with that guy. Or anyone."

"It's honest," she says. 

"What?" 

"It's an honest thing to say, not shitty. Or I guess it might be a little bit shitty too, but it's honest and I like that."

"Oh." 

He's at a loss for words. Clearly, once again she has read him perfectly, knowing exactly what his question meant and why he asked. 

It's not so much a surprise this time, so when she steps closer to him and wraps her arms around him for a quick hug, he's ready to respond and his arms come around her shoulders for a moment before she lets go. 

"Go get some sleep Gendry," she tells him, with that bright smile of hers. 

  
  


* * *

  
  
  


“Can you help me get Lily’s present?” Gendry had asked her one morning when they were drinking their coffees. 

Arya had agreed and that is how they find themselves wandering around a toy store one Wednesday evening after work. Gendry keeps picking up things, asking if Arya thinks Lily would like them.

“I think you could just trust yourself since you’ve become quite the favorite with her.”

“What?” 

“She’s been asking me about you since you were there when she was sick,” Arya tells him.

He laughs and shakes his head but he can’t deny it feels nice to hear.

“I swear every time I’m there she asks when I’m bringing you with me,” she adds.

“I am a charmer.”

“Seems so. And here I thought it was those eyes of yours that did the trick but all this time it was your lego building skills. Is that what you say to the girls at the pub, too?”

He knows he’s walking on a slippery slope here and it might be better to stop but when has he ever been able to stop when Arya’s been concerned?

So he just shrugs and raises his eyebrows, leaning to whisper in her ear with an exaggeratedly breathy voice.

“You can join us with the legos next time, judge for yourself. If you think you can take it.”

Arya turns away from him but he can see her shaking her head in laughter.

“I can take it but I don’t know if you can,” he hears her say under her breath and, well, it’s hard to argue with her because he knows whatever the situation might be she can definitely make it so that it’s him on her mercy. Whether it’s actually the legos and Lily or something else entirely they are really talking about.

And the way she glances at him over her shoulder, grinning, has him thinking that no, this is certainly not stopping but rather moving full speed ahead and she isn’t slowing down any more than he is.

While he tries to make up his mind on a couple of Arya-approved options for Lily’s present, Arya picks up balloons and various other party supplies, taking advantage on having Gendry to help her carry it all home.

“You do realise you getting along with a kid is probably what you _should_ be telling the women you want to charm,” Arya tells him casually. 

When he looks at her she appears to be focused on comparing two packages of colourful straws. He shrugs.

“Haven’t really been trying to impress too many women lately.”

He sees Arya nod, but her face stays nonchalant, like she knows he’s looking at her, so he steers the conversation into another topic.

"Last time we met at a kids birthday party I seem to remember you weren't actually feeling that happy about being there.” 

She smiles. 

"I wasn't. But this is for Lily." 

Her voice gets a warm tone when she so much as mentions her niece. 

"She has you wrapped around her finger." 

"She’s the best kid there is."

Despite her apprehension to the birthday parties, Gendry knows Arya has always liked kids. She used to take care of Rickon a lot and she also baby sat some of their neighbors kids when she was a teenager. And all the kids used to love her, she had a natural way with them.

But still, it’s obvious Lily is another thing completely. Gendry knows Arya has been picking her up from daycare once a week for months now and it feels like almost every time he asks what she’s been up to it has something to do with Lily.

She’s really taken it upon herself to help Sansa and be a part of her niece’s life and she seems to be enjoying it. 

“Maybe _you_ should be telling people that you get along with kids.”

“Well I haven’t really been trying to charm people at bars either. Besides, I don’t know if it would work that well for me,” she tells him, heading to the cashier.

He decides to keep it to himself that he absolutely thinks it would work well for her.

As they wait for hot dogs after finishing their shopping Arya looks at some magazines on a stand next to the food truck. 

“Huh,” he hears her say as she looks at one cover.

“What?” he asks, not lifting his eyes from his phone he’s been scrolling through as he waits for their food.

"I hadn’t realised it’s September 18th. It's been ten years since my mom died today." 

“Oh.”

There’s really not much to say and he is all too familiar with the feeling these days evoke.

“I’m sorry, Arya.”

She shrugs, because really, there is nothing either of them can say that will change it. The feeling of loss will never go away and these days will always feel weird.

“Funny how I almost miss my mom more than my dad even though we used to fight so much,” she says with a sad smile.

“She was your mom.”

“Yeah. She was,” Arya whispers.

There is a glace on her eyes as she looks around and lets her eyes wander on the buildings and the traffic.

She shakes her head, swallowing.

“They’ve been gone for so long.”

He knows what she means. Both of their parents died when they were so young, they never got to see them grow up. Sansa’s daughter has no grandparents. There’s no third generation in their gatherings.

Their parents have been away for so long they have had a whole world of problems on their own, after the loss of them. The life they have built for themselves was built without their mothers and fathers, relying on support from others who were just as young as them and had no more insight on the challenges of adulthood.

There have been times for them all when it has been hard and they have all missed their parents so many times. But they have no experience of adulthood with their parents so it’s also hard to imagine what it would really be like. 

Would Arya have left if even one of her parents had been alive? Would Gendry have ever gotten to know his siblings the way he has? Would Jon be feeling as restless as he does? Would Sansa have been drawn to those abusive men if she hadn’t been so desperate to find someone to give her the safety her parents hadn’t been there to provide her?

Their food is ready and he pays for it, handling Arya hers and giving her shoulder a squeeze before they head to sit on a bench to eat their food. It's a pitiful gesture in such a situation, stiff and not enough and he knows it but she meets his eyes for a second and he has a feeling she knows what he means, that he's there for her if she needs it. 

He used to wonder how it would have been if their loved ones hadn't died. Whether they had stayed together then. But he also thought that maybe it had been their troubles that had brought them together. That maybe that was why they had clung together and there might never have been anything between them if Arya's family had lived and she could have continued to be that little firecracker she was when she was younger. 

But now he is certain it was not about those things. Now, as he is feeling that same pull towards Arya, he must admit there is just something between the two of them that he can’t deny no matter how much he might want to. There's a chemistry, something in both of them, how their brains seem to be wired the same way. They are alike in some inexplicable way and different in others – complementing each other. That's why every time Arya just exist in the same space with him he can't help but turn to her, read the situation like her. 

Arya is the one who was away but somehow it feels like he is at home again only now that she has come back.

It’s Arya that feels like home, being with Arya. It always used to make him feel this strong sense of security, and it still does. Security, mixed in with the happy feeling, the sense of brightness. There’s some deep feeling of peace inside him when Arya is near him.

It’s weird that the feeling is there even in situations like this, when they are talking about things that are definitely not happy. As they eat in silence he wonders if she feels it too, if it makes these things more bearable for her too.

  
  


* * *

  
  
  


Arya is there to open the front door for him with Lily on her hip as he arrives to Sansa’s house on Saturday afternoon.

Lily hides her face on Arya’s hair but sneaks a peak at him almost immediately which might just be the cutest thing he’s seen.

“Come in,” Arya urges him and he steps inside, eyeing Lily as he places her gift to the chair near the door while he takes his jacket off.

“You’re early. No one’s here yet and we’re still setting the table,” Arya tells him.

“I had nothing to do at home,” he explains although even he can hear how lame that excuse is. 

He just wanted to come there already, wanted to see them all. And he must admit it was Arya especially he wanted to see.

The feeling of rightness when they are together is something he is finding impossible to ignore and all the serious conversations they’ve had lately have only made it stronger. Those discussions have been needed, they have been necessary in building up their relationship again and they have given him that sense of trust he finds himself very willing to accepts no matter how much he tells himself to take it slow. 

The way she is now, whispering to Lily to encourage her take the present Gendry is offering, her voice full of kindness and eyes shifting from the girl to Gendry, eyeing both with the same kind of happiness and warmth, only enforces his feelings.

They walk to the living room where Gendry nods his hello to Jon, Bran and Brienne and calls out a greeting to Sansa who calls back to him from the kitchen before he crouches down to the floor to give Lily the present she now accepts eagerly.

“Can I help you open it?” he asks the girl who just nods, eyes wide with excitement. 

Arya is crouching down too next to Lily and he can feel her eyes on him as his fingers work on the wrapping paper.

She knows what’s in the box and he suddenly remembers their conversation in the toy store. And sure enough, when he meets her eyes for a second, Arya is biting her lip and smirking at him. He fights back the urge to ask if she is one of the women who find it attractive when a man gets along well with kids because no, he would not like to know what Jon or Bran would say if they heard that conversation.

The party gets really going once more of the guests start to arrive and soon Sansa’s house is filled with their friends and their children.

If Arya seemed like she didn't know what she was doing at the birthday party in the beginning of the summer she sure does not seem like that know. She’s pretty much running this whole thing, lighting up the candles on the cake, ordering Sansa to pose for a picture and pouring coffee for everyone. She’s all smiles and jokes and playing the perfect hostess, bubbling with the energy that reminds Gendry of a much younger Arya.

After the cake is eaten Arya sits with the kids on the livingroom floor, looking through all the presents Lily has gotten, and Gendry lounges back at the couch next to Jon.

“What have you been up to lately?” Jon asks him.

“How come I only hear about you from Arya?”

He shrugs. Jon is right, they haven’t seen each other a lot for the past couple of weeks - not nearly as much as he’s seen Arya.

But Jon doesn’t sound like he minds too much even if his tone is a bit accusatory, in fact there’s some mirth in his eyes. So Gendry just shakes his head and slides into a more relaxed position on the couch.

”Nothing out of the ordinary,” he says and then adds, for good measure,

”Have you been up to something exciting?”

Jon mumbles a denial but smiles in a way that makes Gendry think there is something going on with him - but maybe it’s something better suited for a more private conversation, or Jon will just tell it in his own time, so he just decides to ask Jon’s thoughts on the football season that is just starting and Jon is more than happy to give his opinion on that subject.

When most of the guests have left, Arya and Sansa wash dishes in the kitchen, laughing together and listening to music on low volume. Then there seems to be a song they like playing because Arya turns the volume up and suddenly both of the Starks sisters are dancing wildly in the kitchen and Lily soon joins them, making them all move to the living room to have more room for their impromptu dance party.

Arya and Sansa take turns twirling Lily and try to teach her some classic disco moves. Arya even reaches a hand to Jon as he passes by.

”Come on Jon, show us some moves,” she says as she pulls him to join them despite his resistance, and to Gendry’s surprise Jon does, laughing after his initial apprehension. Because there really is no way of denying these three Stark girls when all three of them are united, anyone can see it.

Just this week at lunch Arya had spoken to him about how she never would have believed it as a teenager if someone had told her she’d be so close to Sansa and that she would be helping her raise a kid on nearly daily basis and that Sansa would be as important to her as Jon. But now it feels like the most natural thing. 

Out of breath, Arya finally collapses on the couch next to him. She leans back and brushes her hair out from her face, still smiling widely. 

There’s a happy glint in her eyes as she catches her breath, smiling as she looks at Lily still twirling on the floor.

”Nice moves,” he teases her.

"It's important for a child to know that you can just have a dance party in your living room and I'm here to teach her that,” Arya says with a serious face. 

"When she grows up I want her to remember her mom and aunt dancing with their eyes closed and hands up in the air. I want her to remember we had fun.

“You just want her to think you’re cooler than Jon and Bran,” he teases.

Arya looks at her, smug.

“Like that’s even a competition.”

Once again he thinks she looks absolutely beautiful, her wide smile accentuating the charm she always has. It’s so evident now after all those heavy conversations they’ve had lately. Her past may still weigh down on her but it’s not nearly everything there is to her.

She is not just someone who used to do drugs or a girl who lost her parents. She’s a woman who goes all out on dancing with her sister, she’s a woman who helps arranging a birthday party for her niece and she’s a friend who manages to make him laugh like no one else.

Arya sits beside him quietly, still smiling but looking wistful as she keeps watching Lily.

Arya laughs as she hugs Bran before leaving, ruffling her brothers hair and telling him she needs a break from him but promising to come back for lunch before he leaves the next day. 

On the drive back she hums softly along the radio, looking out of the window with that same wistful expression she had before.

“What are you thinking?” he asks after observing her for a while.

She seems to consider her answer, humming a few more notes.

“I was thinking about Lily.”

“What about her?”

“That I hope she doesn’t have to just remember me and Sansa when she grows up. I hope she can come out to dance with us and not just have a memory of us dancing.”

Her voice barely changes as she says it and he can still see a small smile on her face.

“I hope so too,” is all he says.

He knows better than to say they will be there, they both no there’s no promises of that kind of thing. 

“I don’t want to live in the fear of something bad happening, I don’t. But it’s just hard not to think about it sometimes,” she tells him.

“Once you’ve been through something bad enough, you’ll never be the same person again. You look at light a bit differently when you know about the darkness.”

“I know.”

It's the same feeling again, that no matter how deep the conversation has touched, just the fact that it's Arya he has talked with is making him feel safe and warm. And no, he definitely does not think it’s just the bad stuff that has happened to them that makes them understand each other. But at the same time, he doesn’t think either of them could be with someone who hasn’t lost anything in their life. It’s not that they are sad or want to dwell on the sadness, it’s as much about the way they move from one emotion to another, the way the talk about the people they have lost doesn’t scare either of them because they both know the memory of them is always there anyways, whether they talk about it or not. 

They drive in silence for a while, before she speaks again, her voice more steady now.

“I should have made you dance too, Lily would have loved that.”

“Next time,” he promises.

"And I never did get to show off those skills of mine with the legos,” he remembers. 

"You have to take me with you there when you go sometime soon." 

"Oh it was me you needed to show them to, was it?" She asks and he can hear the smile in her voice.

"Well you didn't seem impressed enough yet."

He can feel her eyes on him, but he lets her look, lets her decide what she wants to make of his words. She keeps looking for a long time, and he gets nervous he has crossed some line, but then she chuckles under her breath and shifts on her seat, looking straight ahead again. As he sneaks a glance at her from the corner of his eye, her eyes are closed but there’s a smile on her face.

He pulls his car to a stop in front of her building. She glances at him after unclasping her seatbelt. Her hair is still a mess from all the dancing and she’s smiling again like she has been the entire day, her eyes sparkling. She looks unreservedly happy.

He has the strongest urge to kiss her and just because he himself is feeling untypically happy at the moment he decides not to fight against it.

He leans down and slowly brushes his lips on her cheek. She stays still, only slightly pushing her head against his touch. And when he leans back up she stays put, a small smile on her lips, eyes looking up at him.

“I’ll see you at the gym tomorrow morning?” he asks.

Her smile widens.

“Yes, you will.”

She opens the door, steps out and waves her hand before she closes the door. Gendry watches after her until she vanishes inside her building.


	12. The red circle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You’re a bit intimidating you know that?”
> 
> She smiles at him, reaching to nudge his arm just a bit.
> 
> “I don’t know why you act like it’s only me making you nervous.”
> 
> He straightens his head at that.
> 
> “What, are you saying Arya Starks gets nervous?” he teases.
> 
> “I was trying to be honest with you but I can stop.”
> 
> She slaps his arm, making him chuckle. 
> 
> “I was losing my mind wondering if you meant this to be a date or not.”
> 
> The way he smiles at her confession makes him suddenly seem about ten years younger, the shy excitement in his eyes giving him away even before he speaks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is really it, the end of the line for this story - I still have trouble believing I managed to do this. Thanks for everyone who's read this far!
> 
> Sometime in late December last year I read a line about being someone's drug and it made me think of Gendrya. Then, in February, when I had written only a couple of sentences for this story, I woke up one day with a song stuck in my head, and I didn't even know which song it was. It turned out to be one I hadn't heard in years, called The Road by Don Jonson Big Band. I listened to it over and over again when I was writing the first drabbles for this story and then - after listening to it a lot - I realised that it was about the same thing I was writing. That song gave this fic a name (the quote in the beginning of this chapter comes from there) - The Red circle meaning, in that string of references, the place where two people are destined to meet again, whether they want it or not.
> 
> I've been very lucky to have help from a few people with this story - thank you all for telling me it's good enough, proofreading and being there! But one particular person urged me to start writing in February, listened to me whine all these months and told me every day for the past week that I can in fact get this thing finished. So thank you Yana, without you this story would only live in my head.

_On the road, out on the seas_  
_We'll be reunited within the red circle_

_Keep one eye on the road_  
_The other one fixed on the one you hold_

_Leave a light on, I'll arrive on time this time and try to stay_  
_Leave a light on if the night's too dark, the spark has gone away_  
_Far or near, tomorrow's here_  
_Follow me, and I know the road is clear_

_“I could be a travel journalist,” she said, throwing a rock and counting it skip once, twice, three times._

_“Or I could like… Sail around the world on my own or be a professional Mountain climber - like that woman who’s writing that blog about climbing the ten highest peaks.”_

_“Yeah but those people need sponsors and you’d have to please the money guys and that's never going to happen,” Gendry teased, skipping his own rock._

_Four, she counted, looking for another flat rock she could use to try to beat him._

_“Well at least I’ll do something more interesting than just sit in some stuffy office like you will when you graduate,” she told him, knowing he would catch the mirth in her voice and sure enough, he chuckled._

_“I could come with you. You need someone to look after you.”_

_“No I don’t, I can take care of myself. I’ll make it, you’ll see.”_

_“I’m sure I will,” he said, meeting her eyes and smiling as she got ready to throw the rock she had picked._

_They both watched as it met the surface of the water._

_One, two, three, four._

  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  


“Go on, NOW!” 

“Go for it!” 

“GET THAT!”

Jon and Tormund are both standing now, Tormund with his hands swinging in the air as he gestures towards the field, Jon holding his face in one hand and ripping his hair with the other. 

“They just get worse and worse, please tell me this is just the start of the season.”

Arya speaks in a low voice, although she guesses it's not really that necessary to be quiet. Jon and Tormund don’t seem like they would be able to focus on anything but the game anyways. 

Gendry shakes his head.

“No. Just wait if we get to the finals.”

With the weather getting colder their Sundays in the park playing football have been replaced by watching the Winterfell team play at the stadium. Jon and Tormund have been regular spectators in these matches for years and Gendry has told Arya he has been coming to the games fairly often too. 

Arya had joined Jon at the stadium plenty of times when they were younger and now she has let him convince her to come with them again. So really, this is nothing new for any of them but it seems to Arya that Jon’s enthusiasm has only grown over the years and that Tormund is every bit as obsessed with the success of the local team as Jon is. 

Arya is very happy Gendry is not quite that fanatic. Two mad fans is more than enough, she thinks as Tormund and Jon hold on to each others shoulders as the opposing team gets a penalty shot and then hug and yell madly as the Winterfell goalie grabs the ball before it has a chance to reach the goal. Jon seems happy though, as Tormund wraps him in a headlock _–_ as a form of celebrating the success in a tough situation, it seems _–_ and both of them join the singing of the other fans. 

Between the halves Arya and Gendry head out to get snacks from one of the stalls while Jon and Tormund go to grab some beers _–_ even though Arya wonders if they really need anything that might fuel them up any more. But Jon does seem very happy today so Arya won't complain. It's a treat to see her grumpy brother feeling better and be it the game or the company, Arya really doesn't care. 

She threads her way through the masses of people easily, being as small as she is, but halfway to the stall she notices Gendry is having more trouble and is falling behind her. She stops to wait for him, huffing as he catches up to her.

“You’re slow,” she points out.

“But you’re tiny, it’s easier for you to move here.”

She rolls her eyes and grabs his wrist, starting to pull him with her. She can hear him laugh and after a few metres he twists his hand, taking hers into his own. The small gesture, his hand in hers instead of just holding onto his wrist, feels strangely intimate and she almost lets go as she suddenly feels self-conscious about the implications it brings up.

She tries to be subtle about letting go of his hand when they reach the line to the food stall, raising her own to brush her fingers through her hair as she turns halfway to face him. He’s standing close to her in the middle of the crowd and as someone moves behind her his arm reaches out, his hand touching her back to guide her a bit to the side so the people passing won’t collide into her.

“Thanks,” she says under her breath, still not sure what to think of all this tenderness and care. 

It’s nothing that couldn’t be interpreted as purely friendly and she knows Gendry has his gentlemanly ways – he _does_ open the door for everyone, but somehow all of this feels distractingly intimate and the most distracting thing is the ease he seems to do it all with.

It’s like somehow all of Gendry’s walls have disappeared after he had been so adamant in keeping them up. She’s not sure what to make of it.

“Did you hear about that new restaurant, the Bravosi one with the long name?” he asks as the line moves forward and they take a couple of steps closer to the counter.

“My co-worker said it’s really good,” Arya answers eyeing the board above the stall with all the options of food and drinks, trying to decide what she’ll have.

“Would you like to come check it out with me?”

She glances at him, and his eyes are directed to the board, too.

“Sure.”

“Okay. ” 

It sounds so casual and relaxed, like he doesn’t even need to think about it and like it’s nothing.

“Next week?” he presses on and she glances at him again. 

This time, her eyes meet his as he has turned his face from the board to her. 

“Well you know I watch Lily on Tuesdays and I have my therapy on Wednesday, but otherwise, sure.”

"Is Friday okay?" 

He’s still sounding casual, and no, she hasn’t got any plans for Friday, so why not?

“That’s good,” she smiles at him.

“Great. I’ll make a reservation, sure they’re busy on a Friday,” he says as the line moves again and they reach the counter. 

She tells her order robotically, not really giving any thought to her careful consideration of the options, because it doesn’t seem as relevant as wondering if Gendry has just asked her out on a date.  
  
  
  


* * *

“So let me get this straight: you’re going to a restaurant with Gendry, just the two of you, on a Friday night?” Sansa asks her on Tuesday evening while they watch over Lily playing with her toys in the bathtub.

“Yes,” she tells her sister, a little annoyed because she did already explain all of this.

“Huh.”

“What?”

“That sounds like a date to me.”

Arya rolls her eyes.

“I know.”

“So is it a date?”

“I have no idea.”

“Arya!” her sister scolds, throwing a towel at her.

“You guys have to stop that.”

“What? I just agreed to go try out a new restaurant with him.”

“Just talk with him. Ask him what he wants. You’re getting your hopes up all the time _–_ don’t say you aren’t because you’ve been smiling like an absolute idiot this whole conversation _–_ and you need to ask him where he’s at before you guys mess this thing up once more.”

She feels nervous again.

“You think he wants to be just friends?”

Sansa purses her lips and raises her eyebrows, looking at Arya like she’s being absurd.

“I think we can be pretty certain Gendry does not think of you as just a friend with the way he keeps looking at you.”

“Like what?” she needs to ask _–_ just because she wants to hear Sansa say it, confirm it to her that there’s something going on and it’s not just her imagination.

Sansa rolls her eyes, standing up to lift Lily out of the tub.

“Like he’ll start drooling any second.”

Arya bites back the response already on her tongue because Lily is right there _–_ and also because she doesn’t really mind it that much if Gendry really does look at her like that.

“Just make sure you’re both on the same page and that he’s actually getting over all his fears and all that so you won’t end up getting into another pointless fight,” Sansa tells her as she dries Lily with the towel.

Arya reaches for the plug in the bottom of the tub, watching as the water starts swirling down the drain and Lily’s toys swirl with the water, deep in thought.

Somehow Sansa always seems to be able to tap into all her insecurities, all the things that make her most nervous, and she’s pushing her to face it all with her no -nonsense approach. Somehow Sansa makes it all seem so simple without pretending it’s easy. And Arya guesses that is how it is. It is simple _–_ all she needs to do is ask Gendry, talk with him, be honest and listen to him

But easy? No, that it is not. It’s scary and unnerving and she’s worried Gendry might think she’s pushing it, that she’s trying to move too fast or that’s she’s being reckless if she so much as asks him where they stand. But at the same time _–_ what if he does want to move forward and she seems too standoffish and he’ll think she’s not interested anymore?

_Damn Sansa for always being right._

  
  
  


* * *

As she looks at the mirror for what must be the hundredth time, Arya wonders again if she should have just been brave enough and asked if this really is a date. That might have made getting ready a little easier.

She fixes her hair one more time and puts her leather jacket on, pursing her lips as she assesses how it matches her skirt.

And she berates herself for getting this nervous, what does it even matter if this is a date or not?

It’s _Gendry_.

He normally sees her in her work out gear or in the clothes she wears for work, so it’s not like – or maybe she should have worn something more like the things she wears to work? Something more adult, maybe, than the short jean skirt she has on

She almost runs back to change the skirt when the buzzer ringing stops her.

So he’s here, then, and the skirt will just have to do, as will the leather jacket and the boots

It’s not like it’s a fancy restaurant, so that isn’t an issue.

_Just calm down._

She runs down the stairs, unable to just walk calmly and there he is, standing on the pavement, smiling at her when she opens the front door.

“Hi,” she says and for some reason her voice sounds breathless even though she has just run the stairs down and that's not exactly an exercise.

His smile widens, and his eyes swipe her from head to toe and back up again. That at least is very familiar and in the best way she can think of.

“Hey. You look nice.”

“Thanks,” she huffs, totally incapable of finding any more words so she just starts walking and he falls into step next to her

As she discreetly glances at him from the corner of her eye she wonders how it’s possible for him to look so relaxed and utterly handsome.

Arya doesn’t really believe in soul mates or everyone having that one person who they are meant to be with. But if there is something like that she feels sure that the person for her is Gendry

She did not spend all her years away just thinking about him or wishing they would get another chance. No, she had been pretty sure they were done, at least as a couple. The friendship part though, she always kept hoping she could get that part back in some way at least. Because it didn’t matter how long it had been since they saw each other, she never stopped noticing when someone had blue eyes almost like his or when she heard a thing she was sure he would have found funny

And now they have found each other again and he still makes her laugh and she can still guess which food he’ll pick from the menu in every restaurant they go to and she also knows that they are nowhere near to being 'just friends'. They might have been careful with all of this and they have been taking things slow but it's not friendship that makes them act like that. And it doesn't matter how nervous all of this has made them during these months she’s been back in Winterfell or that it still does, because there’s just no way of denying they are both moving closer and closer to each other

It had taken them so long to even admit they really weren't just friends when they were younger and even longer to actually put those feelings into words. And it was partly because they didn't need to say the words but also because it was new to them and it took both of them some time to realise the depth of it all, the meaning of it

Now it's all very clear. Arya has no doubt what the feeling inside her is or what it means. She knows exactly the weight of it. 

There’s something about how the waitress talks to them that makes Arya feel the waitress at least is sure they are on a date. But then she realises it might not be because of the fact that it’s Friday night and just the two of them there, but more because of Gendry’s hand lingering on her back when they walk to the table or the way he helped her took off her jacket.

“So, how’s work?” Gendry asks her casually as they start looking through the menus

She bites her lip

“My boss offered me another position.”

Gendry’s face is full of surprise and she starts feeling awkward

“It’s a team leader thing.”

“A team leader? That sounds like a step up.” 

She shrugs. 

“Yeah…”

“That’s great.”

His voice is so warm and his smile so bright as he searches her eyes. 

“I don’t know.”

She deflecting, downplaying it, she knows _–_ and she knows he can see it. 

“Hey. It is great, isn’t it?”

He clearly thinks it is, but Arya has been feeling weird about the whole thing, so she just hums vaguely. 

“We should definitely get those appetizers to celebrate.”

He gestures for the waitress and she watches him list a bunch of small dishes and ask for some celebratory drinks for them, glancing back at her between words to ask silently if all of it is okay with her, and she nods and wonders when Gendry became this man who does all of this so casually when the younger him would have just acted apprehensively and waited for her to handle all the conversations that weren’t absolutely crucial.

The waitress is quick with the drinks, bringing them to the table when Gendry has only managed to get her to tell that the position was only offered to her today. 

He raises his glass. 

“So. To the new team leader?”

“I didn’t give her an answer yet,” she says and to her own ears it sounds like she’s mumbling. 

He lowers his hand holding the glass, looking worried all the sudden. 

“Why not?”

“I just… I don't know. I’m not sure if I can do it.”

“Do you want it?”

She thinks for a moment. 

“Yeah. I think I do. But it’s more responsibility and I haven't done something like that before.”

“Your boss seems to think you could do it if she’s offering it," he points out, "I think you can do it.”

“You don’t even know what it’s about.”

“But I know you. And I know you’re great at your work and I know you love a challenge.”

He looks at her, narrowing his eyes, assessing her.

“You do want it, don’t you?”

She shrugs.

“Well you know me. I’ve always wanted to do it all, be the king of the world and all that.”

“I know,” he smiles. 

“I might not have thought the historical museum in Winterfell was quite the thing.” 

She adds it like a side note, but it doesn’t go unnoticed by him. 

“How about now?” 

There’s a hint of nervousness when he asks, insecurity. 

“Do you still dream about travelling and conquering the world?”

He exaggerates and makes it sound like a joke but she doesn’t miss what he means, she doesn’t miss what he’s really asking: if she’s going to leave again. 

“I do want to travel still,” she says and he looks like he’s holding his breath.

“But I’m happy here. Winterfell feels good. Being home feels good. Being close to everyone feels good.”

His face visibly relaxes at that and he nods.

“Besides, if I move somewhere else and get a similar position that I have now in another museum then I don’t know if it’s any more adventurous or exciting either.”

She shrugs again and he smiles, obviously getting her meaning, that the adult life and the line of work she has chosen have their limitations regarding excitement and adventures, no matter where one lives.

“So, there you have it then, right?”

He seems so sure of her abilities, and she doesn’t really want to bring all her insecurities into the conversation. She doesn’t want to bring down the pleasant atmosphere of the evening, but on the other hand she wants Gendry to understand how she feels.

“It’s just all these changes, you know? I’ve just gotten settled here in Winterfell and with everyone,” she says, drawing patterns on the table with her finger.

And then Gendry’s hand is covering hers, stilling it’s motion gently.

“If you feel like its too much then don’t do it, you don’t have to,” he tells her with a soft voice.

“But just remember you’re not alone so we can help you if you start feeling tired or something.”

He removes his hand from hers, but she can still feel the warmth of it there, that little gesture of closeness making her feel the meaning of the words of encouragements tenfold. It makes it easier to believe, to trust she really has all that support and that she can count on it. The way he just touched her hand, the tenderness in his voice and the certainty of his words, like there’s no doubt, like it’s just a simple fact that they – himself, included, apparently – will help her if she needs it.

Their food arrives and after that their conversation consist of comments about how everything tastes and Gendry telling Arya about his favorite Bravosi restaurant in Storm’s End, close to Bella’s flat, where they had eaten an amazing meal this summer when he visited his sisters. Arya listens to him tell her about his siblings and their kids, noticing the warmth in his voice as he explains about the excursions they made while he was in the south this year and the way he still seems to know Storm’s End so well despite not having lived there for a couple of years now.

At some point during his explanation he shifts in his seat and his leg moves under the table, touching hers and settling there, against her. She takes a bite of her food to mask her surprise and calms herself down before meeting his eyes.

This feels like a change – the whole evening has felt like a change.They are taking one step after another into something she has quietly hoped for for a long time but that is now starting to feel inevitable. She’s pretty sure Gendry is feeling it too, that he is consciously taking all these steps with her.

He’s just finishing a story of the fishing trip he took his oldest niece to and he meets her eyes, seeming relaxed. But there’s that tiny hint of question there, the part of him needing assurance that this is all okay. And she smiles at him, changing her position just a little bit but keeping their legs in contact, seeing the small change in his expression as he relaxes more and asks if he can have a taste of her food. He can, of course, so she cuts a piece and pushes her plate closer to him.

It’s not late when they finish their meal, agreeing on a little walk instead of going to a bar when neither of them want to drink more. Besides, it’s not raining or particularly windy tonight and that feels like a special treat in October. 

They stroll the streets leisurely, talking about the short hike they’ve both agreed on going with Jon, Sansa and Lily on Sunday morning. Arya tells him what she and Lily did on Tuesday night and how she and Jon are already planning on taking her camping next summer and how they are buying her all her own little hiking gear so they can teach her to be a proper hiker and camper. 

“You’ve changed a lot,” Gendry tells her, a little out of the blue. 

“For the better or worse?” she has to ask. 

He smiles and shakes his head, scratching the side of his face a bit, looking sheepish.

“What? Does that mean worse is the right answer?”

“No. It’s just…” 

He’s doing it again, smiling like he doesn’t want to say what he’s thinking.

“You’re an adult.”

“Are you saying I’m old, Waters?”

“I wouldn’t dare.”

“Good. Because you know I can kick your ass if I need to.”

“Haha.”

He’s silent for a beat before continuing.

“No, I just meant you’re different. More serious and calm, like you’re at peace with things.” 

“Boring, you mean?” she asks, teasing him again but this time he shakes his head, not taking the bait to tease her back. 

“No. You could never be boring, Arya.”

His voice is so genuine, so full of warmth.

“Good,” she smiles, “I mean, you were always boring but it’s good that I'm not.”

“Well you always seemed to like me well enough for a boring person,” he points out.

She chuckles. 

“Maybe I like boring. Maybe it balances out my un-boringness.” 

She meets his eyes briefly and he just smiles, not seeming offended or like it’s too much for her to say, but not saying anything either. 

Just smiling, like he’s been doing so very much this whole evening that’s it’s starting to make her flustered.

They walk slowly, it feels like neither of them is in a hurry to end the night and on that note, Arya tells Gendry her fridge is almost empty and that he might as well help her carry her groceries home.

“I feel used,” Gendry jokes but follows her to the supermarket happily and walks with her through the aisles, carrying the basket for her.

Arya picks up milk, juice, eggs and bread, thinking of the next morning. She wants to ask Gendry what he’d like to have for breakfast, but that seems like a too big of an assumption to make so she decides not to. She does, though, pick up the cheese Gendry tells her he likes, putting it in the basket as casually as she can. 

When they step out of the supermarket Gendry rubs his neck in that way of his she is so familiar with _–_ it’s what he does when he’s nervous or awkward or unsure.

“Should we… Walk a bit more or…” he shrugs, and as he raises both of his hands he realises he’s holding the bag with her groceries.

“Oh, right. I guess we should get you home so you can put these into fridge.”

She has to bite her lip to stop laughing at him, but of course he notices it anyways.

“Sorry,” he says, sheepishly.

“I’m just…” he starts, scratching his head as he looks down and then glances at her from under his brows.

“You’re a bit intimidating you know that?”

She smiles at him, reaching to nudge his arm just a bit.

“I don’t know why you act like it’s only me making you nervous.”

He straightens his head at that.

“What, are you saying Arya Starks gets nervous?” he teases.

“I was trying to be honest with you but I can stop.”

She slaps his arm, making him chuckle. 

“I was losing my mind wondering if you meant this to be a date or not.”

The way he smiles at her confession makes him suddenly seem about ten years younger, the shy excitement in his eyes giving him away even before he speaks.

“I didn’t dare to call it that.”

There’s a giddiness she doesn’t remember feeling in years, not even in June before she kissed him so she feels the need to continue her confessions.

“You remember the first night we saw each other after I moved back, at the pub?”

“I remember.”

Gendry’s answer sounds rushed, like he definitely does not need more clarification on what night she is talking about, like there is no way he would not remember.

“Jon told me you’d be there and I almost chickened out of coming. That’s why I was there so late.” 

He doesn’t say anything for a moment and when she looks at him she can see him opening and closing his mouth a couple of times. The way she knows he does when he can’t decide on what to say.

She shoves his arm a bit and laughs at him, making him relax instantly.

They’ve reached the point where they should both turn in different directions to head to their respective homes so they stop, standing face to face on the pavement.

He smiles, running his hand through his hair.

“So we’re here again.”

His voice is soft, so soft she feels it in the pit of her stomach. She’s always thought that particular voice is only reserved for her and no one else.

“Looks like we are,” she agrees, smiling.

He’s smiling too, shuffling his hand in his pockets and not making a move to leave, looking down at her.

“Come up,” she says, and she knows he knows it’s a question. 

He’s free to say no and it won’t ruin things, but if he says yes and follows her, they are making the decision together. She holds out her hand for him and he takes it.

“I’d like that.”

Arya doesn’t know why but once they are inside her flat she feels shy. She tries to press the feeling down with offering him a glass of water and blabbering about something totally meaningless while she sips at her own, realising she isn’t at all in need of a drink.

So she stops, abruptly, biting her lip as she tentatively reaches her hand to touch his arm, wrapping her fingers around it and gently pulling him closer to her.

He’s all warmth as he moves closer to her, standing in front of her so that she needs to strain her neck to keep looking at his face. He leans down, his other hand settling on her waist as the other one cups her jaw and he brings his lips down to meet hers slowly.

They kiss for a while, quietly savoring the feeling. When he finally leans back up a bit, they just stand there for a while, looking at each other.

“Come on,” she whispers, taking his hand and guiding him to her bedroom. 

There she reaches for him again, pulling him to her with her hands behind his neck. And it’s not slow anymore but desperate in the most maddening way, rushed breaths and lips and teeth.

She pushes him to sit down on the bed and straddles him, pulling off first his shirt and then her own and pressing her core against him, feeling the way he hardens under her.

His words are a little mumbled against her lips

“We don’t need to rush it.”

“I’m not rushing, I just want to get on with it.”

“We’ll get on with it,” he chuckles, “Just have some patience.”

“I have patience.”

“No you don’t.”

“I’ve been patient with you for months now, haven’t I?”

He laughs as their lips find each other again, nibbling and she pulls his head towards hers.

“You’re always so romantic.”

“I wasn’t aiming for romantic, I was trying to get us both naked,” she mutters as her fingers move to the button of his jeans.

He lets her open it, kissing her lips with the same enthusiasm she has, but then his hands go to her wrists, stopping her and leaning his forehead against hers, breathing heavy, catching his breath before he sits up a little straighter and speaks. His eyes closed and his brows furrowed like it pains him to say the words _–_ and maybe it does because she herself feels like it’s killing her to not be able to just feel him already.

“Arya, I can’t do what we did when we were kids. I can’t just have sex with you and pretend it’s just us being friends and not define anything.”

He looks up at her, sighing. She takes a moment to calm her breath before she speaks.

“Well let’s not do that then.”

Gendry’s changing expression tells her he hasn’t interpreted the words the way she meant them.

“No, I didn’t mean let’s not have sex, I meant let’s not pretend it doesn’t mean anything or that we’re just friends. Let’s - let’s have sex and be clear about what it means.”

He meets her eyes in a careful question. She bites her lip before clarifying. 

“That we like each other, right?” 

She searches his eyes for confirmation for a second before brushing her lips to his neck.

“Yeah,” is all he manages to get out.

“That we want to be together.”

Another kiss, just below his ear and a shaky breath from him.

“That I’m falling in love with you.”

That one, combined with her nose nuzzling the side of his face and her breath on his skin makes his words come out in a breathy mutter.

“I might already almost be there.”

“Good. Because I think I’m getting really close as we speak,” she mumbles against his skin, tips of her fingers massaging lightly the back of his neck and the short hair there.

“Yeah?”

One more slow, wet kiss on his neck.

“Ask me tomorrow morning and I might be there too.”

“Okay,” he breathes out. “I will.”

She moves her mouth from his neck and kisses his lips slow and hard, holding him tight.

Her hand slides back down in between them and she starts working on his zipper, pulling it down and then her fingers are touching him through his briefs, making him groan. His hands find their way under her skirt, stroking her thighs and inching up, closer to where she wants them.

This time it’s her stopping him, leaning back a bit to separate them, trying to clear her mind enough to articulate the thought.

“If I get freaked out tomorrow will you just promise to, I don't know, take me out for a run or to the gym or just… I don’t know, not get upset with me if I need some time alone or something?"

He nods, moving his hand to cradle her cheek. He smiles at her as he speaks.

"I promise. Although I don’t think I should need to point out that you were the one who seemed alright after last time"

“Yeah but that was different.”

“How?”

She looks him in the eyes and thinks he has a pretty good idea of what she means before she says it.

“It’s not the sex that would be freaking me out. It’s feeling so much and being afraid I might lose it. And the getting what I want part.”

“Is this what you want?” he whispers, like he’s finding it hard to believe.

She has to smile at him because how could he even question that after everything?

“Idiot,” she says, so soft she’s sure he knows what she means.

Then her face changes into a more serious expression.

“Just don’t think I’m running away if I have some trouble adjusting to all of this.”

“Alright,” he says, “I promise.”

She kisses him, long and sweet, letting her fingers grace his scalp as her arms rest on his shoulders. 

“Okay this has been all talking and you were the one who said I have no patience so I think we are well beyond rushing at this point.”

His laughter rumbles from deep within him, making hims shake under her. She has to smile at him, but her smile vanishes quickly as he grabs her and pushes her on her back, settling on top of her and pressing his lips against hers. He kisses her with a force before he pushes himself off for long enough to take off his own pants and help her pull away the rest of her clothes.

It seems like all the talk about patience is forgotten as his lips move from her mouth to her neck, teeth grazing her skin, and his hand lingers on her hip bone, his thumb brushing the junction between her hip and thigh. 

But no amount of urgency can hide the fact that this is no quick fix or just a physical thing. Even when it’s with teeth and nails there’s a tenderness in their touches, in the way their eyes meet, in the way the are.

He kisses his way down to her breasts, moving to kneel between her legs, his lips kissing her hip bone, the top of her thigh and then he gives first a soft kiss on her clit before licking his tongue along her slit. When his other hand leaves her hip and his fingers slide in her, she pulls him up by his hair, kissing him with everything she has as his fingers keep stroking her walls, curling in her and the white light fills her closed eyes. 

When she feels like her breathing has calmed down enough, she opens her eyes, and reaches for a condom for him. She pushes at his shoulder long enough for him to take the hint and turn to lay on his back and straddle him and lower herself on him. 

“Arya,” he says, his voice all choked up and very, very low as she starts moving and places her hand on his chest for balance, rubbing herself against him tentatively at first.

Her hair is falling off her shoulders, around her face, swaying as she moves. His eyes are half closed and his breathing is ragged. His hands are holding her firm on her hips as she moves a little faster.

“Arya,” he says again and if that’s not a love declaration she doesn’t know what is, and that is just –

“Don’t you dare make me cry on you right now,” she mutters to him. 

And he looks at her, smiling, eyes dark but his whole face so utterly soft and she has to close her eyes to not see it because it’s almost taking her breath away. It’s the same look from all those years ago, the one he always had reserved for her and only her, the same one that made her run away all those years ago because it was filled with so much love and devotion it scared her. It’s there again, on his face and he’s not turning away, he’s not hiding it. 

It’s hard to breathe with all these feelings coming over her at once, the physical and the not physical ones. So she leans over him, whispers for him to flip them over and closes her eyes again, holding him close to her as she lays on her back and feels him move.

He moves in and out of her slowly, pulling almost all the way out. It feels like every single nerve ending in her whole body is in fire, making her want to move, but what he's doing feels so good – letting him do it for her, just feeling exactly what she's feeling – it’s so good, she wills herself to stay still, opening her eyes to just look at him. She’s teetering on the edge of her orgasm, unable to form a coherent thought, but still – 

His eyes. 

He keeps his eyes locked on hers and it feels impossible not to return his gaze. It’s new for her, it's never been like this with anyone before, not even with Gendry when they were younger. 

Through the haze of pleasure, there’s this intense feeling, that they are here together, the two of them and it would not, it could not be the same with anyone else. 

And it’s that thought that has her coming, pulling him over the edge with her as she does.

He watches her brush her teeth, standing behind her, his arms around her waist, leaning to kiss her neck.

“Stop it,” she tells him, taking the brush out of her mouth for a moment.

“What?”

“The staring, it’s weird.”

“I’m not staring, I’m just looking.”

“It’s still weird.”

He chuckles and kisses her cheek.

“I like looking at you, get used to it.”

He lets go of her, taking the extra toothbrush she has already found for him and starts to brush his own teeth. He still looks at her from the mirror.

She shakes her head as she puts her own brush to its place, slapping his abs as she turns away and leaves the bathroom.

“Weirdo.”

“Like you don’t love it,” he says loud enough so she can hear it from the bedroom. 

She wants to yell back at him that she doesn’t but the idiotic smile spreading on her face tells her otherwise so she doesn’t bother. 

She shifts a little again, still not finding a comfortable position.

”What are you doing?”

”I’m just not used to sharing my bed is all.”

”Want me to go home?”

His voice is soft but there is that small trace of worry, making her roll her eyes.

”Stupid.”

”Say that one more time and I’ll make sure you won’t be sleeping anytime soon.”

She raises her eyebrows, fixing him with a look full of challenge.

”Stupid,” she whispers.

He keeps his eyes on her and she can see the grin starting to form on his face but before it’s even all the way there he is moving down her body, raising the hem of her shirt and her underwear is barely midway down her thighs when his mouth is on her.

They stay lying awake and looking at each other for a long time, just watching each other in the nearly dark room. His hand lays gently on her hip and her palm rests against his chest, their faces close.

She can feel the hint of dread lingering somewhere amidst all this perfectness. It’s the thought of having something that can so easily be lost, something so precious that even having it is a reminder of how much she does not want to lose it. 

His voice is a whisper in the dark. 

"Are you freaking out now?" 

She’s so close to him see can see the tiny smile on his face and she swallows down the cry his words almost bring out because how can he know her like this? How is it even possible that he sees her like this? 

"A little bit," she admits, and his fingers brush the skin on her hip. 

"That’s okay." 

He doesn’t hesitate when he says it, he doesn’t move. He’s right there, stable and still and unwavering and the safest thing she has ever known. 

She nods, and she stares at his eyes, the familiar blue of them keeping her grounded in the feeling of safety.

It feels like floating in warm milk, the whole world is soft and fuzzy and friendly. And they both know so well there are many things in the world that are so very far from perfect but that is all okay because right now it feels safe right here.  
  
  
  
  


* * *

_Keep one eye on the road_  
_The other one fixed on the one you hold_

**Epilogue: The hike**

Gendry puts on his music as he turns to the road leaving away from the town. The roads are almost empty this time on a Sunday morning, letting him enjoy his drive and his music in peace.

As he reaches the point where there are only trees around him, a faster song starts to play, making him tap his finger on the steering wheel. Arya had asked him about the song last week, when he was driving her home from the football game, telling him she liked it. He makes a mental note to check if the band is coming to Winterfell anytime soon, knowing how good they are live and thinking Arya might like to go see them with him. 

He had told her the band was from Storm’s End and that Bella had known the drummer when she was younger and that they had seen them many times in smaller venues when they hadn’t been as popular as they are now. She had made him listen to a couple of her favorites from Essos and he had bluntly told her he really, really did not like that weird, electric indie nonsense she bounced her head to. She had told him he had bad taste but she had smiled, not offended in the least that he didn’t like one of her favorites. And she had gone through his playlist, wanting to listen to the bands she wasn’t familiar with, finding several more she liked.

The song ends conveniently just before he sees the sign and slows down to pull over. He turns down the music, still humming to the song as he opens his door and steps out.

He sees Arya crouching next to Lily, admiring something the little girl shows her, as he walks with Jon from the parking lot to the beginning of the trail. 

“Don’t even try telling me there’s nothing going on,” Jon says and Gendry doesn’t bother answering him. 

He walks straight to her and she stands up. 

“You told them?” he asks in a low voice.

“Not exactly,” she says, “But they kinda guessed something had happened.” 

“Why?”

“They said I was smiling too much.” 

She leans closer to him and places her hand flat on his back, waist level. It’s an innocent enough gesture but still so intimate he doesn’t think there’s any point trying to pretend things between them haven't changed if Jon or Sansa notice them standing there as they surely do. Especially since he can't keep the soft smile off his face as he looks down at her. 

And sure enough, as Sansa comes to get Lily to get her settled in the backpack Jon has promised to carry for the first part of their day, she only rolls her eyes and smiles at them knowingly.

When their are left to their relative privacy, he just has to lean down to give Arya a quick soft kiss. She’s all smiles and her hands come to grab the front of his jacket.

“You sure you have enough clothes southern boy?” she asks him.

“Doesn’t feel too cold today.”

“But you know how it can change. And I’m sure it will be a bit windy higher up.”

“Well I’ve got you to warm me up then, don’t I?”

She shakes her head.

“I’m going to just make you run to get you warm.”

“That’s what I meant, didn’t I?”

She rolls her eyes, poking his stomach with her finger.

“Idiot.”

“If you’re done being all cute then can we get a move on?” Jon calls at them, sounding as grumpy as ever but when he raises his eyes there’s an unmistakable hint of a smile on his face. And really, what else could Gendry have expected when Arya seems as happy as she does.

The woman in question moves her hand from his waist to take his hand, pulling him with her to follow Jon on the trail.

It’s a sunny day and unseasonably warm. There will probably be snow soon but right now they can still enjoy the slowly fading colours of the autumn leaves, this whole gorgeous scenery.

He listens to Jon and Arya point different plants and birds to Lily, both of them seeming to notice much more of them than he ever could. Between the observations the two plan future hikes and take turns teasing each other. He can’t hear everything they say but he catches Jon saying something about Arya having heart eyes, which she only answers with a laugh, but it still makes her look behind her for a second to shoot him a smile.

They walk the trail up to the rest site. Sansa and Jon start setting up the food as Gendry goes to make the fire. 

He watches Arya laugh with Lily, that full belly laugh with her head thrown back when Lily says something funny. She turns to look his way, meeting his eyes. 

There’s no mask on her face, no fake confidence and no insecurity, just her wide smile. And then she bites her lip and averts her eyes, smiling to herself for a moment before she lifts her eyes again, as unable as he is to keep from looking. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading, please leave a comment!


End file.
